


Applebaum's Finishing School for Young Ribika

by SonicoSenpai



Series: Dark and Triggering Shit [1]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types, Lamento -BEYOND THE VOID-, Togainu no Chi
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Alternate Universe - Victorian, And oh my god so does Tomoyuki?, Angst and Romance, Auction, Bathing, Caning, Cat Ears, Child Abuse, Control, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Demons, Discipline, Ear pulling, Embarrassment, Emotional Connection, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Figging, First Meetings, First Time, Flustered Konoe, Forced Labor, Forced Submission, Humiliation, I need to stop this, I'm only kind of sorry, Just being mean to Konoe for the hell of it, Loss of Control, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Medical Examination, Multi, My gods I can't believe I wrote another fic with that tag, Neko versions of DMMD characters, Neko versions of Togainu No Chi characters - Freeform, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oh my god how does Takahashi have a fucking tag, Okay so I lied about no fluff, Paddling, Pain, Physical Abuse, Please don't ignore the tags, Porn With Plot, Prep School, Primping, Public Humiliation, Punishment by Proxy, Rai can't help that he's fluffy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reform School, Sexual Slavery, Shame, Singing, Stripping, Swearing, Tails, Teasing, Threats of Violence, Underage Rape/Non-con, abusive teacher, cathartic writing, finishing school, food service, nail clipping, non-consensual nudity, picnic at hanging rock, pimping, school discipline, therapeutic writing, washing mouth out with soap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2019-10-11 18:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 29
Words: 127,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17452487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: So, this mess is what happens when I take a week off writing and binge a series like "Picnic at Hanging Rock" on Netflix. You may notice the inspiration, even in the name.After bringing his friend Konoe home from peddling, Tokino's father enrolls him at Applebaum's Finishing School for Young Ribika. Konoe is also enrolled on scholarship, as he is an orphan. The school turns out to be less of a finishing school and more of a reform school, however. And what, exactly, the kittens are being finished for remains to be seen.Enjoy at your own risk--or don't. I will be posting chapter summaries at the end of each chapter to avoid spoilers if you want to see what it's about but you're timid about my current level of, well, abuse of my poor characters, this one isn’t for you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will update tags as I go along, but this is probably not going to be a fluffy series, so please beware. I've been struggling a bit with my existing stories, and this first chapter kind of flowed out in an hour, so I thought, it could be kinky, fun, and a hell of a dirty mess, so it's perfect for my collection, no?
> 
> Update: So this is really getting pretty dark. This is not really a fluffy fiction. Please read the tags and read at your own risk!

My first day at Applebaum’s Finishing School is a short one. I arrive late in the evening with my friend Tokino. His father sent us to the school—I’m on scholarship as an orphan, of course, and Tokino is here at his father’s request. The school is an hour’s hard ride outside of Ransen, and further by carriage, in the largest house I’ve ever seen. It’s a mansion, really—a very old but well-kept building, lovely green ivy climbing up the first two stories on both wings of the front exterior, a tower several stories high in the center. 

When we arrive, it’s after dinner, but since it’s early summer—mid-May—the moon of light is just now setting, turning the sky lovely shades of orange and red. The coachman opens the carriage door, and my friend Tokino, a wealthy merchant’s son, is helped from the carriage first. I follow timidly, surprised and intimidated by the sea of young faces returning my gaze. 

“Please welcome our two newest students: Tokino and Konoe,” a refined male voice announces. Standing aside from the neat row of a dozen young cats—more than I have ever seen in one place, in fact, as my village was very small and is still recovering from famine—is who I presume to be an instructor. He seems to be in his late 20s or early 30s.

“Welcome, Tokino and welcome, Konoe,” the boys say in perfect unison. I feel their eyes upon me, and I am terribly flustered. I have lived alone for a long time but last week agreed to follow Tokino to his home on his return trip from peddling in my village. My stay was cut short, however, by his father, who was very displeased, as he had not been informed of my arrival or even of my invitation. He arranged for both of us to be sent here since Tokino refused to leave my side, and his father had heard that graduates from this private school graduate as good, compliant apprentices around town.

It’s _my_ fault we are here, in a nutshell. I stare down at my feet.

Tokino returns the greeting with a bright, bold, and cheeky smile on his face. “Thank you. We are both glad to be here.” 

“Ahem,” the instructor clears his throat. He is wearing black and lime from head to toe—impeccably dressed in a waistcoat and slim-cut trousers. He has a medium build with short blonde fur and hair and striking blue eyes, accented by spectacles. “I’m Virus, the headmaster of this school. Boys, please excuse yourselves and get started on your evening routine.”

The young cats file back up the steps and inside in an orderly fashion. They don't move like I expect kittens to move.

“You two, let’s start in my office.” We follow Virus to his office, where he leans against his desk and takes a good look at us from head to toe. We simply stand before him, not speaking. I’ve never been appraised in this way before and I find it unnerving, and it only gets worse when he pushes off his desk to walk around us.

“Stand up a little straighter,” he tells Tokino. His sharp tone makes me aware of my slouching as well, so I too pull myself up to my full height—still nearly a head shorter than both of them. “I realize you’ve been traveling, but you are filthy. My associate, Trip, is in charge of the boys’ daily lives, including hygiene, and he will show you where to bathe before bed. I’ll be administering some tests tomorrow to determine your class schedules. Now, please take your belongings upstairs. Trip will have your room assignments ready. Good night.”

“Good night, sir,” Tokino mumbles, and I copy his words softly, not knowing what else to do. 

I have nothing but a small pack, so I help Tokino with his trunk. We carry it upstairs where we find another adult, perhaps in his early 20s. He looks like he’s wearing clothes similar to Virus—black and green—and he is blonde but he has red fur and is a larger breed than the headmaster in stature. He has the same unnerving blue eyes.

“Tokino,” he says gruffly. His voice is not nearly so pleasant as Virus’.

“Sir?” Tokino looks up.

“Your room is down the west wing, fourth door on the left. Your roommate is Mizuki. Konoe.”

I look up. 

“Konoe.” Trip repeats. I must be meant to answer, but I can’t find my voice. I finally manage to squeak out something.

“S-sir?” 

“First, _answer_ your elders when spoken to. We do not tolerate rudeness here. Second, you are in the east wing, fourth door on the right. Your roommate is Aoba.”

“Wait,” Tokino says. “We can’t stay together?”

“Your father requested we keep you away from the orphan.” It stings to hear myself referred to in that way, but it’s an apt description. I lower my ears and my tail droops. “You will, of course, probably see each other in class, at meals, and during free time.”

“But why?” Tokino whines. “He’s lived alone for so long!”

“Shut your trap and put your belongings away,” Trip growls. “You have two minutes to get back here with the bathrobe and slippers you'll find in the closet.” He leans against the wall, alternating his icy glare between us.

This is _horrible_!

I rush off to find my room—it’s huge, bigger than my house in Karou, and currently unoccupied—so I stuff my pack in the closet, pull off my boots, slip on the slippers, and bring back the robe, looking up at Trip obediently.

“You’ve put your dirty feet into your clean slippers,” he says. “Take them off till after your bath.”

“Oh,” I say, blushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. Shall I fetch my boots?” 

“Don’t bother.”

Tokino knew what to do, apparently, since he is carrying his slippers and still wearing his boots. I am feeling like an idiot now—but I didn’t know. We both follow Trip down the third hallway to the bathroom—if it can even be called that. This too is larger than my entire house was in Karou.

The ornate double doors paned with frosted stained glass swing open with a soft creak. When we enter, there are rows of basins—mirrors, sinks, and faucets with running water, which my village didn't have—on either side in the antechamber. There are about a dozen sinks. Plus, on the walls on either side, I see full-length mirrors and several open shelving units, labeled with names where students store personal grooming products. The storage unit is filled with luxury items I've never seen: beautiful soap, fancy glass bottles, plush towels, and more. I look at Tokino, and neither of us has brought anything like that. I’m 16 and not old enough to shave, and I used my own handmade bars of soap or stuff he gave me as gifts—soap is really precious—at home.

But Trip leads us past the sinks to the next room, which is lined with toilet stalls—each has a door, thankfully. 

“Do either of you need to go?”

I ate very little today and yesterday due to nerves—but Tokino stops. When he is finished, we wait for him to wash his hands and follow us back into the bathing area. There is a large bath—I’ve heard of hot springs baths, but this one appears to be sculpted from stone. There are several showers attached to hoses surrounding the pool as well. It smells like the water is scented; a pleasant mint and citrus fragrance floods my nostrils. Trip hands each of us a towel and a small washing basin, including two bottles, a bar of soap, a washcloth, a scrub brush, and a comb.

“Strip and get in the shower. Throw your clothes in the laundry. You won't be wearing these here, as we provide uniforms for our students. Wash your hair and fur thoroughly. Scrub your nails with the brush provided and then comb the conditioner through your hair. For hygienic reasons, you will be checked for lice and other illnesses before you are allowed to consort with your fellow students.” 

“Lice? Neither one of us has lice!” Tokino snaps angrily. “How dare you even _suggest_  such a thing!”

“It’s simply our policy to check for communicable diseases before setting you loose among the population. Relax,” Trip says. He takes up his position in the bathing chamber, leaning back against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Is he planning to _watch_ us bathe? Or is he just watching to make sure we obey? Either way, he is making me nervous.

I glance up at Tokino, who doesn’t seem to mind his attention. He pulls his shirt off overhead and turns on the shower. I follow suit, but I don’t feel comfortable. I turn on the shower on the other side of Tokino, further away from Trip, and he clears his voice.

“Use this one instead, pretty kitty.” A shiver courses up my spine when he addresses me with that pet name, and I look over at him. He’s nodding at the shower on his right, across the room from Tokino. However, I don't exactly have a choice except to obey, picking up my basin, towel, and the shirt I’ve already taken off and folded. “I don’t know what kind of relationship the two of you have, but it won’t be continuing here. We don’t allow our students to fraternize.” 

“That’s not...” Unable to defend myself, I feel myself blush, my cheeks burn, and the heat floods my ears and chest. I _really_ wish I hadn’t taken off my shirt yet.

“Oh? Do these oversized ears _blush_? Cute. You really _are_ going to be a popular one here.” Trip strokes my ears gently. I duck my head uncomfortably, making my way to the other shower.

“Don’t touch him! And he’s _just_ my friend, that’s _all_ ,” Tokino growls at Trip. I really don’t need his protection, and I am afraid Tokino is going to get in trouble if he keeps up his current attitude.

“Shut your mouth and busy your hands.”

It’s really uncomfortable to bathe around other cats—I’ve never exposed my body to anyone else that I can remember—I mean, sure, my mom must have seen me naked, but it's been more than ten years since she passed away. In my village, I bathe in a cold fresh-water pond and only when it is deserted. But I just keep my back turned to Trip and Tokino and pretend like I’m here on my own.

“Oy, pretty kitty. Don’t forget the shampoo.”

I turn my head and look in the basin at the two bottles. _Shampoo_? I don’t know what that is, and my confusion appears on my face. I currently have the bar of soap in my hands and was about to lather up my hair.

“You weren’t going to rub that bar of soap in your hair, were you? Gods, what a _savage_ little beast you are! Use the bottle marked shampoo—just a little bit—and then rinse it, and repeat. Then, add some from the other bottle and comb it through your hair to condition it. Do all your fur so it’s easier to comb.”

“Okay,” I say softly. “Um, thank you.”

I see Trip smiling, but even his smile looks disingenuous. Everything about him gives me the creeps. I follow his instructions and am surprised to find that just a little bit of the liquid soapy substance makes a huge lather. I lather up my ears and tail as well as the fur below my belly and then rinse it. It smells nice—like lemons and something herbal. And these were just _given_ to me. I can hardly believe the extravagance.

After rinsing the second lather from my hair and body, I comb conditioner through my hair and fur. It doesn’t lather, but it detangles all the knots—I am a short-haired breed, but I have very thick fur which mats easily—making it silky and soft. It smells good, too—minty and fresh. It tingles my scalp and my skin, wherever it touches me, in fact, and it makes me feel a little weird. I recognize the scent from the steaming pool, too.

I use the scrub brush on my claws and my toes, removing all the dirt from them, and the washcloth over the rest of my body. Even that soap smells minty, and it’s a nice scent. It makes me feel relaxed, weirdly.

“Is there catnip in the soap?” Tokino asks, suspiciously. Catnip? I don’t know what that is, either. I make a note to ask Tokino about it later.

“We’d never drug our students,” Trip says. “You’ve had a long day from your journey and taking a hot shower is relaxing. Plus, youngsters like yourself need ten to twelve hours of sleep per night, so I’m sure you're sleep-deprived and it's just catching up with you. I think I’ll start with you, pretty kitty.”

Start _what_ with me, I wonder? I bristle my fur, which looks absolutely ridiculous when I’m wet, but it’s not like I can help my anxiety.

“I’ll check the parts I can’t see underwater first, and then you can float in the pool while I do your head,” Trip says, matter of factly. “Red, just wait your turn for now.”

The room is warm and relaxing, so when Trip drags me out of the shower, I don’t feel the need to dry off, but he throws a towel over my shoulders anyway. 

“You’re dripping on me.”

“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” I say timidly. I seem to have forgotten I’m naked—I’m that relaxed. I stand with my eyes closed, as soon as he turns me around, and I feel him combing through my tail with my comb. It feels weird but not bad. It doesn’t take long, but of course, he comments on the hook at the end of my tail. I hate my crooked tail.

"Look at this, you've got a lucky tail! You really are going to popular with our customers, I mean, our clients."

Customers? What's he talking about? Even if he means the people who are looking for apprentices, what do my looks have to do with anything? But my head feels fuzzy and I don't remember his comment even minutes after it's spoken.

Then, he turns me around to face him and combs through the fur below my belly, and it tickles. I shy away, giggling softly, and he gives me an incredulous look. I really have _completely_ forgotten I'm naked. 

“Ticklish, are you? Somehow I’m not surprised. How old are you?”

“Um, I’m 16,” I say, my voice tired and quiet.

“Well, you look fine so far. Go soak in the pool now, and don’t get conditioner in the water. You’ll rinse it out later.” 

“Okay.”

I obey, wobbling over to the edge of the pool. I’m extremely unsteady on my feet. I didn’t think our journey here was that long, but I certainly am exhausted. My body isn't responding as I want it to. 

However, I grip onto the bars by the steps and lower myself into the steaming water. A bench surrounds the edge of the entire pool. When sitting at the side, the steaming water covers my shoulders, but I’ve gathered my shoulder-length hair up, so it doesn't touch the water. It’s relaxing and the water smells good.

Tokino is now getting his fur examined, and he looks incredibly unhappy. I steal a glance at him and shake my head slightly in warning—doesn’t he know better than to lose his head? To me, Trip feels like a lit fuse, just waiting to explode. Doesn’t Tokino get the same impression?

It turns out, I needn’t have worried—Tokino doesn’t say anything. As soon as he is declared louse-free, he walks over to the pool, also slightly unsteady, and gets in, taking a seat next to me.

“Oh, this is really nice,” he murmurs.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“What for?” Tokino's blue eyes peer into mine curiously.

“Well, it’s my fault you’re here now, isn’t it?” 

“Of course not! Don’t be silly, Konoe,” Tokino says, touching my shoulder with his nose. “My father has been displeased with me for a long time since I’m not thrilled about taking over the business. I think he’s planned on sending me here for a while. If anything, _I_ should be apologizing for _you_ , since I got you into this mess with my family drama.”

“No, that’s okay. You were trying to help me,” I say, returning his affectionate gesture—but something yanks my head back toward the edge of the pool, and I hiss in pain. Trip has grabbed my hair and pulled, preventing me from returning Tokino's affectionate nuzzle.

“What did I _tell_ you about fraternization? Or are you one of those that has to learn the _hard_ way, pretty kitty?”

“I was just—”

“I _know_ what I saw. I want you to keep your hands and body to yourself unless specifically instructed otherwise.”

“But—”

My hair is pulled harshly, and I yelp in pain.

“I’m sorry!”

“We take discipline around here very seriously, though Virus prefers to let new recruits settle in their first night or two. I have a feeling you won’t last if you don’t start to obey immediately.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” I mumble through clenched teeth—he’s still got a handful of my hair in his claws. It’s a huge relief when he lets go—I mean, it feels really _good_ , pleasurable, in a weird way, when I no longer feel that pain. 

Then he starts combing through my hair, carefully. That also feels strangely good. It's terribly unnerving, however.

“I think you have the potential to become something great, kitten. If you follow our instructions, we can make something of you and get you a good position when you graduate.”

I listen quietly, but I wonder what he means. I’m too afraid to ask. As soon as he’s finished going through my hair, he rinses it over the side of the pool, using my basin filled with steaming water, and I’m surrounded by the sweet, minty scent. Now, I feel very sleepy.

“Kitten, are you going to drown? Do you need to get out while I’m doing your little friend’s hair?”

“Oh—no. I’m fine,” I insist. I want to stay with Tokino as long as possible, so I struggle to keep my eyes open. 

Soon, Tokino’s short orange hair is finished and Trip rinses it. Then he orders us to get out and dry off, and we put on our robes, comb our hair, and brush our teeth. He checks our nails for cleanliness.

“We expect to keep yourselves presentable at all times, for you are now representatives of this fine institution. If you don’t make a good impression, it will reflect poorly on this school's reputation. You will be punished if your hygiene is not up to par with these current standards. Do I make myself clear?”

This is not the first time Trip has referred to punishment. I wonder what he means. Would he lock us away in that tower? That sounds awfully nice to me, I think—I miss my privacy already.

“Now. Head back to your rooms. Put away your belongings before going to bed. You will find issued sleepwear in the closet, although yours may be a bit too large for you, pretty kitty,” he smiles down at me. “I think you will have some tailoring ahead of you tomorrow. We don’t have anything to fit a cat of your size.” 

Normally, I would bristle or growl at such a rude comment. But I’m tired, so I just don’t care. I just answer, “Yes, sir,” and try to stifle a yawn.

Trip hums, putting a finger on his chin, looking down at me.

“You’re certainly _much_ more mellow after that bath. I should probably make a note of that. The both of you would do well to obey instructions tomorrow and try to stay out of trouble your first week. If you can do that, you will have an enjoyable stay with us. In our experience, troublemakers tend to make themselves known during their first week. So if you are compliant and biddable, you will earn your instructors’ trust and goodwill. If you don’t, well, you will be fighting your way back your entire stay.”

 _Again_ —a comment about punishments, except this one is veiled. What exactly is this? Some sort of military academy? Reform school?

He walks us back to our bedrooms.

“Room inspections are performed every morning by the prefect, and surprise inspections can be performed anytime by the headmaster. Any cat who does not keep his room up to standard is made an example of.”

Yet _another_ threat? I try to keep myself from clicking my tongue or rolling my eyes. I’ve lived alone for so long with no one to answer to but myself that this is going to be difficult.

“The other students will return shortly. Make sure your lights are out by ten. Konoe, Aoba will not be sleeping in his room tonight. You’ll meet him tomorrow. Good night.” He brushes my ears lightly and leaves. I flinch under the casual touch. It's intrusive and unwelcome.

I’m too slow to ask about my roommate, and honestly, I really don’t care. Maybe he went home to visit his family. It would be nice to have a family to visit, I think, enviously. I push my door open. My room faces south, and the large window looks out the rear of the building, but outside is too dark to see anything. Maybe there's a garden down there. I sigh as I open the window, letting in a cool evening breeze. It feels nice on my skin.

The room is divided down the middle. I see myself reflected in the full-length mirror on the back of the door—and I look very different dressed in this robe. I should find the pajamas first, I suppose. My hair and fur are still damp from the bath.

Aoba’s belongings are on the right side, so I take the bed on the left. It’s a real bed—not a futon like I slept on at home. It’s got a box spring underneath the mattress and it creaks when I sit on it, but it's comfortable. I worry a little about rolling off it in the night, but I think it's because I've never slept in a real bed. Truthfully, I don't move around that much in my sleep. It’s made up neatly in white bedding, a down comforter and two pillows, which are softer than anything I own. They smell nice—like that minty fragrance from the bath.

Also, each side of the room has its own small closet, desk, chair, and clothing rack. In the closet, I find several uniforms, a formal, fancy suit that includes a vest and cravat—something so dressy I’ve never had an occasion to wear such an outfit— swim trunks, and a looser fitting outfit probably designed for sports and outdoor activities. There is a shelf on the side that includes underclothing, socks, and pajamas. I pull on a pair of underwear and the pajamas—which are indeed too long in the arms, but the bottoms are shorts, so they fit fine. 

My desk is supplied with pens, pencils, paper, a ruler, a protractor, and erasers, as well as a variety of art supplies, such as charcoal, pastels, paint, and brushes. There is a variety of paper: ruled, graph, music sheets, and stuff for sketching and painting.

I’m overwhelmed by everything. The items in this room probably are more expensive than everything I’ve ever owned in my entire life—and I can’t believe this is where I’m staying from now on. Perhaps it won't be so bad here after all. Of course, I never had much use for art supplies at home. I learned to read from my mom when I was young, plus Tokino has been helping me recently, so I can read much better now than I could earlier, and I’ve found I really enjoy it. I can travel to worlds other than my own, learn history, science, math, and all sorts of interesting things just by diving into a book. But my favorite thing to read is fiction. I can disappear altogether into a world of fantasy and fairytale, only coming up for air when it’s too dark to read the print. However, at home, reading was a luxury I could only afford after my work in basic survival was completed.

Since Tokino showed me that every symbol makes its own sound, I can read more than picture books. I can sound out words I don’t know, and I’m a voracious reader. There is no lending library in Karou, so I would borrow books from Tokino and read them over and over. Mother had a few books and I treasured them, but they were too heavy to take when I left home—except for my favorite, _Grimm’s Book of Fairytales_. I couldn’t leave it behind. I remember my mom reading me stories from this book when I was a child, and I’m reminded of her whenever I touch the cover.

Taking it out of my pack, I set it carefully on my desk, along with a poem my father wrote and his silver ring—my only family heirloom. Father died before I was born, but he was a poet and loved to sing, from what Mom told me. 

Briefly considering paging through the book before lights out, I glance at the clock. It’s late—already 9:30. I’m still very sleepy, so instead, I glance up at the light and shiver reflexively. It’s an oil lamp, and though the flame is covered, when I get close I still see the flame flickering. I _hate_ fire. This hatred has always been with me, no matter how I’ve tried to accustom myself to it. I just can’t rid myself of this weakness. I find the switch and turn off the light, feeling relief as soon as the flame is extinguished.

I climb into bed, slipping my legs underneath the covers. The sheets feel cool and smooth on my legs, silky almost. The window is open, and I can smell the ivy from outside my window. It’s a nice fresh smell. I wonder if it will lose its leaves as it gets colder. Eventually, the moon of shadow rises and silver rays shine into the room on the floor, and a soft breeze plays gently in the sheer lace curtains. Lace decorating a window? What an extravagance! I’ve never heard of such a thing. This must be fancier than the royal palace.

The bed is quite cool at first, but as I start my evening grooming routine, noticing how soft and silky my fur is after the shampoo and conditioner, I warm up quickly. I snuggle into the comforter, like a baby bird in its nest, and I drift off to sleep in the middle of grooming my tail. I sleep soundly in the soft comfortable bed, a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our story begins one evening in mid-May when our two young kittens are dropped of Applebaum's Finishing School for Young Ribika. Tokino has been sent there at his father's request for rebellious behavior: the last straw was inviting his friend Konoe, an orphan from Karou, to move in with them without his father's consent or knowledge. Konoe is invited to the school on scholarship.
> 
> The two are introduced to the headmaster, Virus, who instructs them to bathe and go to bed. They will be given class schedules and testing in the morning. The two are sent upstairs in the luxurious mansion, where they are introduced to a second instructor, Trip. He gives them their room assignments in opposite wings of the mansion, rooming with strangers: Tokino with Mizuki and Konoe with Aoba, but we don't meet either of the roommates yet.
> 
> The cats are brought to a luxurious bathing chamber and checked for lice and communicable diseases after spending time in the shower. Of course, Konoe has never seen shampoo or conditioner before. They deposit their street clothes in the laundry and are now expected to wear the issued uniforms instead. They enjoy soaking in the pool--which of course is laced with catnip, known to help relax young cats. Tokino is upset about being parted from his friend, and Konoe doesn't appreciate Trip's weird attention. However, since Konoe hasn't lived with other cats before, he doesn't know what is normal and what isn't.
> 
> They are sent to their rooms, after being told their rooms and their appearances are subject to inspection. The failing of inspection will merit punishment, but what punishment isn't mentioned.
> 
> Konoe likes his new room, which is bigger than his entire house was in Karou. He has a real bed with a down comforter--though his clothes are too big. The desk is filled with all kinds of school supplies, which he considers luxuries. As he drifts off to sleep, he thinks this might not be such a bad place, with all the great stuff he is given.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe's first day starts off on the wrong foot and gets worse. Please note there are updated tags.
> 
> Also, I split this chapter into two sections because I wanted to post a second chapter today.
> 
> If you have a history of child abuse, you should probably skip this chapter and this entire fiction. I have a chapter summary at the end.

In the morning, I’m woken by the tolling of a bell—maybe the tower is actually a bell tower? I’m not sure. But I guess it means I should get up. I wash my face using water from the barrel first and then I try to dress in my uniform. The pant legs are really too long but the waist fits well. It’s a nice uniform—the summer weight fabric is a blue and white pinstriped linen, and there’s a matching waistcoat, which fits perfectly. I fold over the hem of the trousers so I don’t get them dirty, and then button up my shirt after fastening the collar and cuffs onto it. It’s a light cotton, perfectly pressed, but again, the sleeves are too long, so it looks ridiculous. I struggle to tie the gold silk cravat, but I get it looking half-way decent. The vest helps, but I look like I’m dressing up in someone else’s clothes.

There’s a straw boater’s hat trimmed with a blue ribbon which I assume is meant for outdoors, so I leave it for now. I put on ankle boots over my socks, then run a brush through my hair while standing in front of the mirror. My hair looks very different—it’s soft and silky, not stiff or matted like it usually looks in the morning. I always wake with terrible bedhead, but this morning, my hair is golden and shiny—probably from the lovely shampoo and conditioning treatment yesterday.

I’m not sure what I need to bring with me, so instead, I make up my bed as best I can and then look around, making sure the room is neat and tidy. I’ve just finished when there’s a heavy knock at the door, and it’s pushed open before I can answer.

In the doorway is a tall, young cat—I think I saw him yesterday. He’s tall and slim with striking orange hair in a long ponytail down his back. He has short, fine hair on his ears and tail, and small dark brown eyes. He is glaring at me from the doorway as though I have somehow offended him—and I only just arrived!  
  
“Um, good morning,” I try, keeping my voice soft and even.

“Hi. You’re new here, right?”

“Yes. It’s my first day. I’m Konoe.”

“I know. I met you yesterday.”

Perhaps he was introduced to me, but I wasn’t given anyone’s names. I nod my head, tilting it to the side slightly. 

“May I help you?” I ask.

“Room inspection. I’m Tomoyuki.” He doesn’t wait for the invitation, just enters. “Where’s your roommate?”

“I don’t know. Trip told me he wouldn’t be spending the night here last night.”

“Oh. I see,” Tomoyuki says disdainfully, as though it’s my fault my roommate has gone missing. He pokes around in the things on my desk and even opens my closet. 

“You have to look inside the wardrobe?” I ask.

“Why? Are you _hiding_ something you don’t want me to find?” 

“N-no,” I stammer. “I-I’m just surprised, is all.”

“All right then. You don’t have a lot of stuff. This is all standard issue.” I clearly hear the snobby tone in his voice—the familiar sound of the privileged when talking down to someone like me.

“I didn’t have much to bring with me.” 

He takes another look at me, dragging his eyes up and down my body, making me extremely uncomfortable.

“I see.”

I’m sure he sees quite a bit with those wandering eyes of his. I bristle slightly but keep myself under control.

“Are you _bristling_ at me?”

“N-no,” I stammer again, desperate for this room inspection and inspection of my person to be finished. 

“I’m checking out your appearance, and it’s sloppy. Your uniform doesn’t fit at all. You need to get it tailored. I mean, sure, we don’t have anyone your size here, but still. You’re tiny. How old are you?” 

I try really hard to settle my fur and I swallow the growl in my throat. How _rude_. I take a deep breath that does not sound _at all_ like a sigh.

“I’m 16.”

“Did you just fucking _sigh_ at me? I’m the _prefect_. I can get you _punished_ for that kind of attitude. I have real _authority_ here, you know.”  
  
“I wasn’t—”

“I _know_ what I heard. And did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“No! I didn’t—”

“Shut your stupid mouth, you dumb bitch.” 

My fur actually does bristle at his insult this time. I’m used to being harassed, but usually over land disputes or something upon which a cat’s _livelihood_ depends—not over _nothing_.

“See? You _are_ bristling! I knew it. You’re the charity case, aren’t you?” 

He says "charity case" like it's a contagious disease. I don’t reply. What can I even _say_ to that? I just stare at the floor. To my utter annoyance, I feel a finger underneath my chin, lifting it up condescendingly. He is _not_ an instructor here. What right does he have to treat me like this? Rage flashes through my chest and my fangs bare. 

“I _knew_ it! Orphans definitely have _no_ class. Of course, who could have taught you? You’re going to bring down the reputation of the entire school. And now you’re baring your _fangs_ at me? You think you’re hot shit? I’ll show _you_ whose boss. You’d best learn to mind your _betters_.”

_Him_? He is certainly _not_ my better. My eyes flash with anger, and I meet his gaze directly.

“Fuck _you_ ,” I say softly, not raising my voice, but instead keeping it even. I do not drop my gaze and meet his challengingly.

“You’re in for it now, stupid little kitten. Let’s see if you _ever_ swear at me again.” 

He drops my chin and turns on his heel, leaving my room and slamming the door behind him. I take another deep breath, trying to contain my anger. I walk back over to the water barrel and splash my face with water, trying to cool off. I cast my gaze out the window for a few minutes. There is a garden out there—it’s lovely, too, blooming with early summer blossoms. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

Not more than five minutes pass when there’s another knock at my door and it opens. It’s Trip.

“Come with me. _Now_.”

I walk over to the door, intending to obey, but my arm is grabbed harshly.

“Why weren’t you at muster?”

“Muster? What is that?”

“After room inspection, all students gather in the hall for attendance. The prefect should have told you. But it seems you were too busy picking a fight.” 

“N-no—I wasn’t—” Today is not going well, and I haven’t even had breakfast yet. When Trip drags me past the stairs, I can smell bacon and fresh biscuits wafting up the stairs, and my stomach growls hungrily. _Shit_! Did Tomoyuki really tattle on me over nothing? I don’t even understand what happened or how I managed to offend him, except for not having any parents, and I can't help that! For now, I don’t resist and I follow Trip obediently.

“What the fuck are you thinking? I told you we try to give our students a little time to adjust when they first arrive, but could you really not help yourself?”

“That’s n-not what—”

“I’m not asking for excuses. He’s told me everything I need to know. Your attitude is causing problems already and you’ve been here less than 24 hours. We need to scrub this contagion clean and prevent the infection from spreading.”  
  
“What?” I’m appalled by the metaphor. He sees me as an _infection_? My ears droop despite my better judgment. I know I’m _not_ the problem here, but the way I’m being handled really hurts.

“Literally, we are going to scrub you clean,” Trip says, his voice changing to something calm and menacing, as he pushes open the bathroom doors and drags me to a sink. He grabs my tie and yanks it down toward the basin.

I cough with effort—he has tightened the tie around my neck enough to frighten me—and my mouth opens to get in as much air as possible—and right then, he shoves a bar of soap in my mouth, gagging me with it. It burns my mouth, my nose, my eyes, my tongue, and my throat, and I start to gag repeatedly. It tastes so utterly _disgusting_ —I mean, I have never had anything so vile in my mouth.

I try to push it out of my mouth, but touching the bar with my tongue burns and makes it taste even worse. My head is hanging over the sink, thankfully, since drool starts dripping out the corners of my mouth, down my chin and around Trip’s hand, which is holding the bar of soap in place. He is pulling my tie with his other hand.

I start to fight in earnest now, pushing myself off the sink, feeling like I might suffocate, feeling panic and fear rise up as my defenses kick in, and Trip starts to coo softly.

“Now, now, pretty kitty. Calm down and take the punishment you’ve earned. If you don’t, I’ll have to subject you to something worse. You don’t want that, do you?”  
  
“Mmm!” I protest, and tears run down my face, but I try desperately to regain control of my body, which is shaking violently. Every inch of me is trying to reject this punishment—but I am truly frightened, especially of Trip's calm, relaxed tone. He sounds like he is enjoying himself, and indeed, when I look in his eyes, he looks like he is aroused.

He moves the bar of soap around in my mouth, and it squeaks grotesquely against my molars. The sound is wrong—it’s not something that belongs in my mouth! I have to struggle with my tongue to relax, and I gag again, coughing violently. Trip chuckles softly.

“Ah, you won’t get very far in this world with your background if you’re _already_ gagging, pretty kitty. You have such a pretty mouth, too.”

A chill ruffles through my fur, and I shiver violently, trying not to choke. But choking isn’t something you can stop yourself from doing. It’s not a voluntary response. It’s an automatic reflex, a response to having something inside you that does not belong there.

“Mmm!” I beg, looking at him directly, pleading as best I can without words. “Mmm!” 

“That’s better. This look—it’s _much_ better than the rage I saw on your face just a few minutes ago. This helplessness, this submission, this utter _defeat_ —this is what you should remember, pretty kitty.”

Another chill rushes through my body, and I am sure I am going to vomit. I gag again, helplessly. How long is he going to torture me? _Please—please stop!_

I do my best to relax, my hands white-knuckled on the edge of the sink, resisting the pull of my tie, which is tightening like a noose, and the push of the soap into the back of my throat. The bitter taste starts oozing down the back of my throat, so I try to tilt my head forward into the sink, letting the saliva from my mouth drip out. 

Tears are falling freely now—and I can taste a slightly salty taste in the back of my mouth. This has got to be one of the worst experiences of my life. My heart is racing, thumping loud in my ears, and my body is sweating. This _has_ to be enough, doesn’t it? I look up at Trip again, tears glistening on my lashes.

He just returns my gaze, almost heatedly. It turns the blood in my veins to ice—and I freeze. I could die here, and no one would know. No one could stop him from suffocating me or poisoning me. I know how to make soap—I _know_ it’s poisonous. It’s not ever good to ingest it, and that’s part of why it tastes so awful. Your body _knows_ it’s bad for you.

_Please_ , I think. _Please_.  _Enough._

“You’re awful pretty when you cry, kitten. You’ll be careful to keep your tears to yourself for as long as you can—since I know we have some customers who like that kind of thing. Maybe I won’t tell Virus how pretty you look— _if_ you can behave yourself a little better. Maybe we can come to an _arrangement_.”

“Mmm,” I beg again, quietly this time, submissively—this seems to be what he wants. And it comes out again, this time as a sob. And I can’t help it—I start to gag for real now—coughing and gagging—over and over.

Finally, Trip has to pull the bar out of my mouth, but pieces of it are stuck deep in my molars. I can still taste it—and it’s so bitter and revolting—but I hardly have time to think about that, since I’m too busy vomiting into the sink. And the stuff I’m vomiting is bile and saliva mixed with soap. It tastes just the same as it did going down.

I spend about five entire minutes with my body heaving violently, heaving up every last thing from the very bottom of my guts. As soon as I’m finished, I drop to the floor in a heap. I’m exhausted, covered in tears, and my mouth tastes terrible.

“So. Was that an effective lesson, do you think? We _don’t_ swear at the prefects at this institution. And certainly, you are _not_ to get on his bad side on your very first day. Now, I suppose I’ll have to tell Virus what happened and make sure this was enough of a punishment. And it looks like we need to tailor your clothes. Come on, then.” Trip is speaking as though what went on between us was a perfectly normal interaction. That terrifies me.

Instead of allowing me to walk—or maintain any shred of dignity—Trip hoists me up over his shoulder and carries me down the stairs to the headmaster’s office. I ignore the wonderful scent of breakfast—it only makes me feel ill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Konoe wakes up to the tolling of the bell and a good night's rest. His uniform is too big, but he's still quite taken with it. He has just finished neatening his room when the prefect enters after knocking.
> 
> Tomoyuki is displeased with having Konoe at the school, due to his status as a "charity case," and he makes this clear at their first meeting. Konoe, however, doesn't roll over as he should and ends up getting into it with the prefect. They don't fight, but Konoe swears right back at Tomoyuki after being called a little bitch and hot shit. Of course, swearing is not allowed--if someone rats you out.
> 
> Konoe is cooling his head when Trip comes to collect him for punishment. He cruelly washes Konoe's mouth out with soap as a punishment, without even listening to his side of the tale.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speaking of stopping, here's chapter 3. I'm having fun today. So you know when I said this wouldn't be fluffy? I lied. I totally, totally LIED. See, there is a character who is just automatically fluffy and he can't help it. I'm sorry. (But I'm really not that sorry.)
> 
> Of course, let's introduce a tall handsome stranger to the story. Little Konoe is sent to tailoring and also given an aptitude test--of several sorts.
> 
> A little bit of flustered, shy (and weirdly, swearing) Konoe in this chapter, because I'm so mean and I can't help myself. A chapter summary follows if this isn't your kink. Apparently, it's really, _really_ mine.
> 
> @racingthesunset - there is a tiny shout-out to you in this chapter. ;)

“It’s his _first_ morning here.” 

Virus is certainly not pleased, not with me and definitely not with Trip.

“You couldn’t let him have a single day to himself, could you? I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave this one alone the moment I laid eyes on him.” 

Virus is addressing Trip as though he were a child—a bully—rather than a fellow instructor, and Trip is taking it. What the hell is this place?

I was placed in a soft chair in Virus’ office the moment I arrived, and the dressing down began.

“Konoe, you sure are much dumber than you look to be getting into it right off the bat with the prefect.”  
  
“To be fair, he didn’t actually introduce himself,” I mutter quietly.

“ _What_ was that?” Virus snaps, glaring at me.

“I apologize,” I say, a little louder.

“As a charity case, you should tread lightly, kitten. Many of our other students will have it out for you. So handle yourself with care, or this will happen again. In fact, now that Tomoyuki sees you as his enemy, there isn’t much we can do for you. You’d better be on your best behavior around him.”  
  
I sigh heavily, and Virus and Trip both look at me, appalled.

“Did you sigh like that in front of him?”

I don’t say anything at first—terrified of the look they are giving me.

“ _Did_ you?” Virus repeats himself.

“Um, perhaps, b-but I’m just tired,” I try to explain. 

“Granted, you are malnourished and come from a region that is uneducated and uncultured, but you _must_ try to fit in here. I don’t care how isolated you were. Here, you need to get along with everyone. You don’t have to _like_ them. I don’t like most of them, either. Just pretend you do, or this will happen again.” Virus turns to Trip. “He’s _malnourished_. In order for him to see clients quickly, we need to get his diet up to par. While the soap was clever, it was a mistake to use it on him this early in the game. The punishment technically fit the crime, I'll give you that much. But in his case, I would have preferred something else. Now, he won’t want to eat.”

“Sorry,” Trip says sheepishly—to _Virus_ , not to me.

Virus sighs—in the _exact_ same way I was just rebuked for, in fact. It irritates the _hell_ out of me.

“Take him to the laundry and to tailor his clothes. He should bring his other things as well. We will get them started. Then, send him back to my office for testing.”

Trip motions for me to follow him. I want nothing to do with him, so I keep my distance. He scares me, but at least Virus keeps him in line. 

“You heard him. I’ll wait here. Get your other things.” 

I obey, but I’m not outside of his reach before my ear is grabbed—and it _hurts_! I yelp in pain—it’s worse than when he yanked my hair last night. 

“When I give you a command, you are to _acknowledge_ it.”  
  
“I’m sorry—yes, sir,” I whimper, trying to get him to release my ear. I’m afraid to even look at him now. 

“Now go.”

He’s _pissed_. I know he’s pissed he got in trouble and I'm sure he blames me. I’m really afraid of what he will do to me if I disobey or delay, so I rush up the stairs back to my room and gather my clothes from the wardrobe. I look out the window, wondering if I might be able to climb down the vines from the second floor. If I couldn’t make it, I’d probably break my ankle in the fall—and I don’t want to think about the consequences of that too much now—so I just obey instead. 

I pile all my new uniforms in my arms and rush back down the stairs.

“No running! It’s _unseemly_.” Unseemly. What a pretentious word! That was Virus speaking. “This is _not_ a zoo.” He is standing next to Trip, which soothes my nerves a little. I slow my steps. “I appreciate your obedience, but running is never necessary, kitten.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I say, wondering if that will become my new mantra.

“Now, follow Trip to the laundry and get your clothes fit for your petite little frame. You will look adorable in the uniform—and in your new suit, too.” He pets my ears gently, which feels nice after Trip pulled my one ear so harshly.

We walk down the hall toward the back of the mansion, out through the kitchen to the laundry. There, we meet a cat with short brunette hair and matching fur, who is introduced as Takahashi. He pulls out a pair of spectacles from his pocket to give me a closer look.

“Ah. You’re new here. I heard someone like you would be joining us. And certainly, you will be a challenge. Please stand up here.”

Someone like me? What does that mean? Short, like me? Poor, like me? I bite my tongue. He motions to a step stool, and I obey, as Trip takes a seat on a chair, crossing his arms across his chest again. He does like to watch, I guess.

I’m measured carefully and my trousers are marked with a chalk pencil. Then, my sleeves are marked the same way.

“The waistcoat is a good fit. Let’s see how the suit fits.”

Am I supposed to just strip down and try it on here? I wonder, looking around. There’s nowhere to change, so I slip out of my pants as discreetly, if such a thing is possible and put on the suit’s trousers. They are a much trimmer fit, hugging my butt a lot closer than the uniform does. The waistcoat fits well, but the jacket needs to be taken in and up as well.

He also measures my head—which I find weird since I have that hat upstairs. I mention it, and Takahashi smiles and says that this is for formal headwear. Fancy! 

“I’ll keep your clothes for now, but I should be done with the first set in about two hours. You should have them back then. In the meantime, you can wear this.”

He hands me a silk robe—it feels very fancy against my skin, and for sure, I shouldn’t be wearing any such thing. First, it’s much too expensive. Second, it’s much too indulgent. It feels indecent against my arms and my legs, making me feel naked, even though I’m wearing an undershirt and boxers underneath. The colors of the silk are bright gold and red, a paisley pattern—and it’s so lovely—but again, I really should not be wearing it.

“Um. Perhaps I should get my own robe?” I ask, timidly.

“No, you should definitely wear that one,” Trip says. “I think you’ll do better on your tests.”

What? What kind of tests are they going to give me? If anything, it’s much too distracting for my taste. I get a little shiver when the fabric brushes across the exposed part of my shoulder—I almost forget what Trip was doing to me—how he was torturing me with the soap earlier. In any case, I am _very_ uncomfortable. I glance at the larger cat as I hop down from the step stool, and then at the tailor. Takahashi smiles at me.

“Welcome to the school, Konoe. I hope you enjoy it here. I am sure you will be a success.”

“Thank you,” I reply, still tasting a residual bit of soap in my mouth. My stomach feels slightly queasy as I follow Trip back to Virus’ office. Tokino isn’t there yet. Aren’t we doing testing? Together? I haven’t seen him since last night. Has he gotten on with his roommate all right? I’m quite worried.

“Oh, how lovely you look, Konoe,” purrs Virus. “Are you ready?” The way he asks that question makes my already frayed nerves even edgier.

“Um, where’s Tokino?” I ask, keeping my voice soft and submissive, taking care to look up at Virus through my lashes. Even if I don't feel submissive I'm not so dumb to look otherwise.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s taking his tests in another area. He has different skills than you do. Plus his father has paid his fees, and we need to figure out what to do about yours.”

“Wasn’t I offered a scholarship?” I ask. “Um. If I don’t qualify, I can go back to my home. I’m sure I will be fine—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve already used up _many_ of our resources, kitten, including _irreplaceable_ resources, like _my_ time and Trip’s time. So let’s see how you do on the placement tests.” 

I start to feel even more nauseated.

“I’m not feeling very well,” I try again, not allowing my nerves get the best of me, but I really can’t help it. I really want to go back to my room and put on some clothes or at least my own robe. Well, it's not really mine but at least it's not this indecent-feeling one.

“I’m sure that’s normal, what with the punishment you earned yourself this morning. Surely, you’ll be more careful with what comes out of your mouth from now on. Keep in mind, Konoe, that you will earn that same punishment for biting or baring your fangs as well.”

“Um, yes, sir,” I say, looking down at my feet, which look strange—my legs and feet are bare—I was told to leave my shoes and socks downstairs with my clothes. I curl my legs underneath my body as I sit, in order to make myself more comfortable.

“The written portion first, and you will have quiet in the parlor.” 

I’m led to the front entrance, the room at the front of the house. It’s bright and sunny, painted a cheerful yellow above the chair railing and wallpapered a floral print below—a desk sits in the corner, overlooking a window there. There is sumptuous padded furniture as well, mixed with velvets, stripes, and solid fabric. A few photos hang on the wall as well as what looks like an award.

“When you’ve finished the test, just wait for one of us to collect you, please.” 

“Yes, sir,” I say. I’m miserable. Don’t they receive guests in here? Well, surely, I’ll be fine. It would be _unseemly_ to greet a guest wearing nothing but a robe, especially _this_ robe—especially if Virus said running in the hallway was “unseemly.”

He waits for me to sit down at the desk, and he hands me a small exam booklet, a pencil, and an eraser. He shuts the door on his way out.

“Good luck, Konoe.”

It certainly is quiet in here, except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the room. As I open the test booklet, the chime rings loudly, startling me. It’s 10 AM. But the noise scares the living daylights out of me, making me bristle my fur in surprise. It’s not that loud, but because the room is so quiet, it seems very loud.

I curl up my feet on the chair as I scan the first few questions in the book. It looks like math is first. The questions start simply and increase in difficulty, but I’m able to solve all of them easily enough. I’m glad I borrowed that book on math from Tokino. 

Next is a brief section on reading comprehension. It’s a piece of cake and kind of fun, too. I read through the passage and answer questions about what I just read. If I forget, I just go back and read the passage again and find the answer, like a treasure hunt!

I get through that section even faster than the math. The clock strikes 11 AM, making me ruffle my fur all over again. I can’t _believe_ an hour has passed, but my test is over half-way finished now.

Now, I flip through the history questions. I know many of these, but some of the current events I’m not familiar with, so I skip those questions. These are short paragraphs essays, so I can’t exactly fake it if I don’t know the answer.

The last section is about science, and again, I thank the gods that I borrowed a few books about science from Tokino.

I’m finishing up the last two questions when the door opens. It’s Trip—and I open my mouth to let him know I’m almost finished—except he is already speaking and _not_ to me.

“If you could just wait in here for a moment, the headmaster will see you soon.”

Trip, _that bastard_ , lets in a _stranger_ —while I am sitting in this _unseemly_ robe. I bristle my fur defensively when I see the sheer size of the cat he has just ushered into my quiet space. If I hadn’t made a sound, I think I might have gone unnoticed, except for the garish silk robe.

“Hello, there.”

The stranger’s voice has a weirdly pleasant timbre—silky and soft in my ears, sinking in and coating them like honey, and it’s embarrassing to even _think_ that about some strange man’s voice. I’ve _never_ thought that about another cat’s voice in my _entire life—_ so why does it have to come up _now_ , when I am alone in a room with a stranger wearing this stupid silk robe and my _underwear_?! And _this_ stranger? He’s a fucking _giant_. I mean, is he even a _cat_?!

He’s dressed to the nines—wearing a sharply tailored slim cut navy suit that looks slightly military inspired, a pale blue shirt that perfectly accents his eye—and I did say eye _singular_ , since his right eye is mysteriously covered by an eyepatch. He is missing an  _eye_! He is holding a top hat in his hands, and gods, he’d be even taller if he were wearing it! He had to duck his head to enter in through the doorway, even without that hat. He couldn't be more intimidating to me if I were sitting here in my underwear, which I _am_ , in fact.

He has long, silver hair that shimmers down his back to his waist, currently pulled back in a ponytail. He is holding a riding crop in one hand, which looks strangely enticing to me, and I just push that thought right back out of my head—what is _that_ even about? And he is armed—not with a pistol, like so many cats are these days, but with a longsword that hangs about his person on the right. On his left hip, he holds a dagger, which, in all honesty, looks about as long as my own sword. I thought I carried a longsword, but I guess mine is really more like a dagger, depending on the size of the cat who wields it. 

Uwaa! He _spoke_ to me, didn’t he? What did he say? I should I respond, shouldn't I? _Shit_. I can’t remember what he said! And why doesn’t he sit down? Do I have to stand up and greet him? Otherwise, he won't sit down, and he's going to keep staring at me! In either case, it would be the polite thing to do, I suppose. But then—my clothes, or lack thereof, will be even more obvious— _shit_. 

“Um, g-good m-morning, sir.”

I feel a blush rising into my ears as I stammer out my greeting in a whisper. Shit. Fuck. Damn. I suppose he is probably tall enough to see whatever he wants from his height, so fuck it. I gather my courage and look him directly in the eye—almost like I am issuing a challenge, and I hold out my hand in a traditional handshake.

“I-I’m Konoe,” I manage _not_ to stammer my own name, and I maintain eye contact as though daring him to touch anything but my hand. I think my fangs might be showing over my bottom lip just a little bit. He smiles—and that chiseled face softens suddenly, and it makes my stomach feel funny, like it’s doing a little flip.

“Charmed, I’m sure. I’m Rai.”

Everything this cat does is elegant and literally charming. Even when he takes my hand—he doesn’t shake it—he kisses the back of it, looking up at me through long, plush silver eyelashes and smiles mischievously, as though he _knows_ he will be flustering me by doing such a thing. It does, indeed, fluster me, and I feel a little shiver from where his soft lips have touched my hand—they feel like velvet—all the way up to my shoulder and my neck, giving me goosebumps.

This is _ridiculous_.

I’m supposed to be taking a test, for gods’ sake! Talk about a _distraction_! But I can’t seem to look away. When he takes a seat on the couch, he fluffs out the skirt of his coat just so, in theory, so it doesn’t rumple the fabric. But really, it’s a move with a lot of dramatic flair. I have a coat like that, and I am going to practice sitting like that when it’s finished being tailored. I am going to be _just_ as elegant and graceful.

“Are you new?” the elegant gentleman cat asks. He can’t be terribly old—maybe as old as Trip, maybe his late 20s. He just looks very different from _anyone_ I’ve ever seen before.

“Um, yes. I arrived yesterday.”

“So still new enough to be afraid.” If it is a question, it is posed more like a statement than an actual question, and I find it insulting.

“I’m not afraid.” I'm sure I sound insulted, and I must look it, too, based on his following response.

“Oh? Why is your fur bristled? Why do you bare fangs?” I cover my mouth suddenly, realizing that I am indeed baring fangs, and shit—my claws! They are completely extended as well. I’m not sure whether to hide my claws or my fangs, now that I’ve shown him both. I remember what Virus told me about soap being used for punishment of baring fangs. I wonder what the punishment is for exposing my claws, and I become even more afraid, which I have just denied. This prevents me from withdrawing my claws or hiding my fangs, and I lisp rather desperately over the top of my fangs in my fear.

“Ah—please don’t tell on me! I think I am not allowed to draw claws or bare fangs. Virus would say it is unseemly.”

“Unseemly?” Rai asks, and then he laughs, which sounds even more lovely than his voice. “I suppose that is exactly what he would say. I won’t say anything. But you don't have to be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I rather like you.”

I’m struck by his forthright remark and it confuses me. _Likes_ me? How? In what way? _Why_? Exactly what _for_? And again, why the _hell_?

My confusion must be obvious, because Rai chuckles again softly and he repeats himself.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to tell on you. I’m just waiting here. That’s all.”

“Um, okay.” Rai smiles at me again, more warmly, more genuinely. His eye sparkles when he smiles. He is _very_ attractive, and I wish I wouldn't notice that when I'm wearing... not so much. I'm at that weird age when parts of my body are less cooperative than I wish they were, and that is making this situation incredibly awkward.

“Where is your home?”

I swallow in response to his question. My home? I’m sure it’s gone now. If I haven’t been there in over a week, surely my neighbors have taken my territory now. I no longer have a home. But instead, I just say the following:

“I’m from Karou.”

“Ah. I see. From the south.”

I’m burning with questions for him. Has he been there? Where is _he_ from? Is everyone his size where he is from? Not only is he tall, but he’s also very broad. Perhaps he can get away with sitting so dramatically because of his size. Who would tell him it looks ridiculous? I would never dare. Although if I were to try such a thing, I’m sure others wouldn’t hesitate to tell me how ridiculous I looked. I am caught staring at him again, and I look away, embarrassed, but he just smiles. I wonder if he has family enrolled here. Why is he visiting? Why did Trip put him in the room with me on purpose? Is he old enough to have a son my age? I don’t think so unless he is much older than he looks.

So why _is_ he here? Maybe he’s offering an apprenticeship? I look at him again more carefully. Obviously, he rode here (I mean unless he is doing something else with a riding crop, and again, I stop that thought right there) and he is armed with swords and not with a pistol. He is extremely well-dressed, so he must make good money. A rancher would have a pistol. A merchant wouldn’t carry swords. Royalty? _Shit_ —is he a _prince_? He looks like a prince. 

“Are you—?” I end up swallowing the question. Asking outright is _unseemly_. That damned word again. But if I’m right, I may not be showing him proper respect. I should have bowed, not offered my hand. What do I know about the current royal house? Who is currently in power?

“What is it?” Rai prompts politely.

“Oh, um, nothing.” That’s even ruder, isn’t it? “I mean—” Now I sound uncertain and stupid and like I have no manners. What am I supposed to do?

“You are simply _adorable_ ,” the silver cat purrs, obviously delighted, but for what reason, I have no idea!

I’m relieved by his reaction, but I feel terrible.

“Was I supposed to greet you differently?” I finally ask directly.

“What do you mean?” His voice maintains a soft purr underneath when he speaks. It’s captivating. I love the sound. 

“I don’t know—do something... else? Special?” I don’t look at him when I ask, because I am so embarrassed. If I’ve mistaken him, this is certainly an insult.

“For example, kiss me?” 

I jerk my eyes in his direction in utter shock. I can’t tell whether he is teasing by the tone of his voice, and when I look at him, he doesn’t look like he’s even said a single word. Did I imagine it? Because if he _did_ say those words, there is no way in hell is he a prince! A prince would _never_ say something like that—would he? 

“I’m sorry—sir?” I ask, adding the honorary title people seem to love so much around here at the last minute, realizing I _haven’t_ been using it in this conversation. At all. Shit! I watch him closely now. I've been so disrespectful!

“I wouldn’t have minded, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smiles slightly and his eyebrow quirks. He _did_ say that, then? What the _hell_? Another burst of anger floods my system—but this time, it’s met with something equally powerful, balancing out my anger—and that second feeling is... _desire._  Oh, gods, _no_! What the fuck?! My face heats up and I glare back down at my test, trying hard to ignore the activity going on in my lap. Perhaps I should continue, simply pretending he isn’t even here. “My gods. Kitten, you ought to be careful.”

“Careful? Why?”

“Not everyone will be as kind to you, and that face you’re making will surely be the end of your innocence.”

My innocence? What the hell is he talking about? I bristle again and he moves suddenly, faster than I can process. Before my mind can register what has happened, he is towering over me, standing right above me and an intoxicating scent—freshly fallen snow, even now, in the month of May, mixed with pine, like Christmas!—fills my nose, making me feel like the beast Virus tells me I am. I salivate in spite of myself, my eyes dilate, and my body starts to sweat.

My chin is brushed lightly with the softest leather, and I am drowning in a sea of pale blue, unable to look away. Unlike my staring down of the prefect earlier this morning, this glance captures me completely, making me feel at his mercy, as though hypnotized. A small whine leaks unbidden from my lips and I try to press my lips together, desperate to prevent anything else for sneaking out uninvited. His other hand pulls through the bristled fur on my ears and the spot on the back of my hand where he kissed me singes as though burned.

“You are a gorgeous little creature.” His words are spoken low, making me tremble—but I don’t exactly feel afraid. Well, I _am_ afraid, but I am afraid of my own desire rather than of him. My ears are hot and his eye wanders back up to the source of the heat, and he stares down at me, showing off pearl white fangs and two rows of straight teeth, as white as his fur. When he is looking down at me, I notice his ears are slightly small for his head and rounded than pointed—a strange shape—and his tail bristles as much as my fur does—and it is huge and thick and fluffy—long and white—and _perfect_ —and I want to touch it.

Rudely, I reach my hands out, and he flicks it away teasingly.

“I think you have to let me touch yours first, kitten,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifted in half a smirk. Then the door opens—and it’s Trip. I feel like I should immediately jump away from the larger cat, but I cannot move. Rai simply looks up, almost as though he is disappointed.

“I hope we aren’t getting ahead of ourselves, sir,” Trip says in a joking tone, though his voice is flat.

Rai returns his gaze to me with an earnest smile.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Konoe. Study well.”

As a parting gesture, he leans down and I bristle even more, growling slightly, unable to help myself. I hear a deep purr and a soft chuckle right in my ear and feel the soft, damp touch of his tongue, right on the tip of my ear. Then I watch as the elegant silver cat follows Trip from the room, turning back as soon as he ducks his head through the door to flash me a quick parting smile, flustering me once again. I hear his low chuckle echo in the hall.

I return to my test angrily, but I don’t finish the last two questions even half-way decently. I’m much too distracted—thinking about that fluffy white tail. Also, I don't think about this until later, but I don't rush to brush off my ear. Shouldn't I feel slightly violated? A strange cat just licked me, out of the blue. Shouldn't I be a little worried about that?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk about a glutton for punishment.
> 
> Trigger: again, child abuse at the hands of a teacher. Please be warned.

I lose track of time, but the clock strikes twelve, once again, frightening me out of my wits, and I’m still trying to settle my ruffled fur when Virus enters. 

“Two hours. Konoe, how did you fare?” The blonde cat smiles down at me kindly, walking over to collect my exam. I managed to complete the last two questions, though I didn’t really do my best. 

“Um, finished, mostly, sir,” I say quietly. 

He picks up my testing book and pages through it. 

“Indeed, you did much better than I expected. I’m pleased. I can’t wait to score it. Also, it seemed you did quite well on an unexpected unwritten portion of the exam.”

“Unwritten portion?” I echo. “What was that, sir?” I am very careful to call Virus sir, each and every time. For some reason, I find him slightly scary—perhaps because he is looking at my current state of dress or lack thereof. 

“Hmm. I think I understand now.” 

“Understand, sir?”

“You are terribly green, Konoe. We will need to get you in shape quickly. The silver cat who stopped by this morning has been by in periodically, unable to find anyone... suitable. He is very hard to please.” 

“That can’t be true. He said he liked me. Sir.”

“Did he really? Did he say anything else?” 

“He teased me terribly. And he told me he’d see me soon and to study well. Who was he, sir?”

“His name is Rai, and he is a particularly troublesome client, an alumnus himself. Of course, he would like to support the school and particularly our charity cases, I’m sure. I just had no idea what to look for. He only had to state his preference, which he never would. I find him hard to read.”

“I would agree, sir.”

“Did he touch you?” 

“I’m sorry—sir?” I am stunned by the direct question. “What do you mean?”

“Trip told me he was standing quite close to you when he entered the room. Did he actually touch you?”

I look down shyly. 

“Listen, this is important—it could mean all the difference in your stay here, Konoe. Perhaps you might be given a private room, and you might see more of Tokino. Your lessons would change and you’d have more free time.” 

“Really?” 

“You just need to tell me the truth.” 

“Well, sir, I, um, offered to shake his hand, which he took.” 

“Oh, well that—”

“But, sir, he didn’t shake it. He kissed it.”

Virus stops. 

“That is interesting. A new development. Good for you, little one! When he first entered? Before he first sat down?” 

“He didn’t seem to want to sit down till I greeted him, though I did not know the etiquette. I took my best guess, sir.”

“I see. And then?”

“I have to confess, I was terribly flustered, sir. My written test was complete but for the final two questions, and I could not continue while in his presence. I found him quite, um, a distraction.”

“I’m sure you did. Did you find him handsome?” 

“Um, well, sir, I-i am n-not so sure I should s-say such things. I-I am a v-very p-poor student—”

“So you did, indeed, notice his attraction. No cat should be that attractive,” Virus states firmly. “As though crafted by the hand of the goddess herself.”

I blush slightly because I did indeed notice. 

“What was it that Trip witnessed when he returned to bring Rai to my office? He was standing over you? Did he kiss you?”

“Oh, no, sir!” I say, slightly panicked. 

“Yet—something _did_ happen since he saw you trying to escape the larger cat’s touch. Tell me. I know you are innocent. I want to know his intentions toward you.”

“But he could not possibly have any intentions toward me at this p-” 

“Just tell me, please.” Virus speaks more firmly. “Now. Leave nothing out.”

“He was teasing me, and I grew slightly annoyed, but also strangely filled with desire. I couldn’t figure out how to handle my feelings, and he warned me to be careful, saying that others might not be as kind as he would be. I didn’t understand and when I looked up, he suddenly moved and was towering over me. He seemed to be smelling me, and he touched my chin and my ears and hair. He teased me with his tail. When I tried to touch it, he flicked it away, saying I’d need to let him touch mine first. That is when Trip opened the door, he said he would see me soon and I should study well. And then, he licked my ear. It made me feel very strange.”

Virus drops to his knees before my chair. “Konoe. What would you say if I could train you to bring a cat like him—or that very same cat—to his knees before you?”

“I-I do n-not know if I would believe you, sir. Surely you too must be teasing. Sir.” I look down at my hands, which are fidgeting in my lap.

“Do you not see his grace and elegance? That is what I can teach you. And if you are indeed his type, he will definitely fall for you if you had the same level of sophistication. He requires an intelligent companion who can entertain him with witty conversation and is more than just a pretty face. Even with your country ways, you must have shown him intelligence.” Virus gets up, energized. “Little one, you will be eating your lunch with me today. It is a special fare, designed to get your body to optimum health, where your mind will be at its sharpest. I haven’t been this excited about a candidate since we first received Aoba. Come! We will look at your exam over lunch.”

I get up from the desk, still slightly flustered and more than confused. A companion? I don’t understand what Virus means, and I remain on my toes till I do understand. I know I shouldn’t ask all my questions at once, of course, and I wait until my test is graded. 

Our lunch is brought in by the cook, Yoshie, a large friendly woman who is delighted to make my acquaintance, especially while I am dressed in a silk dressing gown. Instead of a cook’s whites, this brunette’s uniform includes a lavender apron over the top of her outfit, and mobcap covering her straight brunette hair and ears. Her tail is dowdy and plain as well, but she finds me captivating, and I am terrified. 

“He is the prettiest little kitten we have had since Aoba, who has grown up so much and never even deigns to speak to me anymore—and you are such a tiny little thing, Konoe-Chan. Surely, you will never forget the cook who nursed you to health?”

I try not to be rude, but she is frightening me. 

“Yoshie, don’t frighten the poor dear. He lost his mother over ten years ago. You are much larger than she was, I’m sure. Give him his meal and some room to breathe, for gods’ sake,” Virus barks uncaringly, but she is not deterred. 

“Anything you like, any craving, anytime—just come see me. I will make it for you. Do you have any favorite dishes from home?”

“Well, my village suffered from famine,” I say softly. “But I adore kuims when they are in season.”

“Wonderful! Thank you, my dear. We will get you on the road to health—a healthy body is a healthy mind.”

“Don’t forget your other charges need you as well, Yoshie,” Virus reminds her. It’s obvious he’s trying to get rid of her.

“Um, thank you, ma’am,” I say softly.

She curtsies deeply. “It is my pleasure.” And she departs.

“She is overblown in everything but really, Konoe, you have permission to attend the kitchens whenever you are hungry, and we encourage you to do so. It’s our firm belief that kittens should eat when they are hungry and avoid stuffing themselves when they are not. You will be in good hands here.”

The meal on my plate is extravagant. There is a hot soup, mixed summer vegetable puréed with cream, served with hot freshly baked bread with creamery butter, and a garden fresh salad—crispy green and red leaf lettuce, with freshly chopped vegetables and nuts, including candies walnuts, served with a lovely vinaigrette dressing. A small cut of delicious meat—I’m told it’s leftover from last night’s dinner: prime rib, with a delicious horseradish dressing, giving it a pop of heat, and a variety of roasted potatoes, only tiny, in many colors of white, yellow, oranges, and even purple. They are seasoned with salt and paper and butter and roasted tender—just delicious!

I watch Virus eat and try to imitate his manners. I don’t know which to eat first or how to use all the utensils. Occasionally, he will say, “Napkin on your lap, little one.” “Work from the outside to the inside when the courses are brought in one by one.” “Salad and desserts get smaller forks.” “The main course gets large ones, and fish gets a flat one so you can remove the skin.” For this course, the main plate gets a knife and a large fork, since it’s all on one plate, and it is wonderful. I eat every last bite. I drink my water and even the bread is delicious. 

"Does a baker bring in the bread?”

“Oh no—we have then baked here,” Virus says proudly. “May I offer you a glass?”

“A glass of what, sir?” 

“Wine, of course,” he doesn’t wait and simply pours it.

“I’ve never had it, sir,” I say shyly.

“There’s a first time for everything. To your success here at Applebaum’s. We have high hopes for you, my dear.”

He clinks the crystal against mine.

“Your ear twitched,” Virus says.

“Oh—yes, it didn’t sound like glass. It was odd—like it was slightly off key.”

“You can tell if a note is off key? Hmm, interesting. That is because these are crystal, not glass, And much more valuable.” He makes a little note in a notebook. “I’ll test you in musical arts as well. And the wine? Do you enjoy it?”

“It’s, um, perhaps an acquired taste, sir.” 

“An excellent answer. Yet, when offered, it’s only polite to accept. Understand and drink.” 

“I see, sir. Thank you.” 

We haven’t been chatting the entire time. I have been watching the meal and how he eats and how the food is brought away. I’m shocked to see he is now paging through the final pages of my test booklet. He marks them off as corrected and hands the book back to me.

“You did very well. Probably the best entrance exam I’ve scored in the years I’ve been here, which means I have underestimated your worth. I am changing my plan as we speak to make you into something much more valuable. Your only weaknesses are in current events and recent history, and I will start you on those topics right away. Additionally, reading a newspaper will be essential for your education and make you an interesting conversational partner. If I am ever _not_ available to discuss current events with you during the day, I will find a substitute. Takahashi is a rather news fiend himself.

“For other skills, such as dancing, posture, riding, swordsmanship, badminton, and another sport, perhaps tennis, we will add them slowly. Obviously, dancing and riding are the most important. We can help you with your posture easily enough. Your training will be difficult and rigorous. And then—we can start including you with the parties the other boys attend—where you will outshine them _all_.

“Now, keep in mind, that we are investing a lot of _time_ in your training, and you must be doing this of your own will, not for anyone else. Do you understand? I’d hate for you to change your mind at the hard work ahead of you, especially once your colleagues become jealous of your natural talent.”

Does he mean my intellect? That must be the only thing I have in this entire world. What other talents could we possibly be discussing? 

“Yes, sir. I do wish to make something of myself.” I want to be able to sit as dramatically and elegantly as that silver cat did in the parlor this afternoon. I am indeed sure. I want my own source of income. I want to be able to eke out my own living. For now, no one gives me a job description, and I don’t require it. That is fine. I don’t need it. I would like that silver cat to _enjoy_ sitting and talking to me. I’d love to be _his_ apprentice or to have him stop by to visit me. For now, that is my goal.

“I’m glad to hear it. The work will be hard yet rewarding. Let’s get you started right away in class this afternoon. I think I’ll have you do mostly independent study, except with Ribika’s contemporary history. You can start that class this afternoon. However—” he glances at me carefully through spectacles, “I think we’d best get you back in your uniform, as lovely as that robe is on you. We can’t have you distracting the other students.”

I’d forgotten all about it! My face and ears heat up in an instant, and I look down in embarrassment. I’ve been eating here, wearing next to _nothing_ , and I’ve totally forgotten. I’m so ashamed. Virus, however, seems pleased.

“Go on. Come back once you are dressed, and I’ll show you to your class.”

“Yes, sir.”

I obey quickly, running as soon as I am out of sight, eager to get back into my clothes. The uniform looks much better—Takahashi does a wonderful job tailoring, I see, and he is pleased with his work.

“You look pretty as a peach, Konoe. You will surely turn eyes here.”

“Um, thank you, sir. I mean to study well.”

“Well, studying only gets you so far. Be sure to take hold of every opportunity.”

I thank him again, a little confused, but I scamper back to Virus’ office. He’s also pleased with my look. He leads me to the classrooms, which are on the ground floor on the opposite end of the building in the east wing.

“Now, our history instructor is quite strict. I know you wish to learn well, but make sure you do not get on his bad side. He may be annoyed that I am introducing you to the class late.”

I am slightly nervous as Virus knocks on the classroom door. The history teacher is a medium build cat—well, tall and slender—with short, slightly graying ash blonde hair, and blonde fur. He has dark blue eyes and is wearing a traditional dark blue kimono. His face flashes a look of irritation when Virus enters and introduces me, but it softens into a kind smile when his gaze lands on me. 

“Oya, is this our new student?”

“I apologize for the interruption, Ryuuhou,” Virus says. “This is Konoe. He will be joining your afternoon class as of today.”

“Welcome, Konoe.” Ryuuhou glides up to me, almost as though his feet don’t touch the ground—he moves with elegance and grace. “Please, won’t you take the seat up front here so I can get to know you a little better?” 

“Um, thank you, sir,” I say, lowering my face shyly. “Pardon the intrusion.”

Virus leaves, and I feel Ryuuhou’s hand guiding me toward the desk right in front of his own.

“Aoba, please fetch Konoe a book.” 

“Yes, sir.” I turn toward the sound of the voice—and it’s a cat I haven’t seen before. I would have remembered him. He has striking blue hair, cascading in long soft layers around his face and down his back, currently pulled back in a ponytail. The fur on his ears and tail is long and silky, and he has lovely hazel eyes. He has a similar build to mine, though he is a bit taller than me. He hands me a book, and he looks utterly exhausted.

“Thank you, Aoba. I’m your new roommate,” I whisper, but Ryuuhou suddenly appears at my desk.

“Konoe, my sweet little kitten, I know you are new, but I do not believe in withholding discipline from my students just because it is their first day, like the headmaster and his lackey do. In my class, there is no discussion unless you are answering one of my questions. My time is much more valuable than yours. Do you understand?”

His tone makes me lower my tail, and my ears droop.

“I-i apologize, sir,” I murmur quietly. 

“Now, don’t forget your posture, darling.” He taps my shoulders with the pointer stick he’s using. His eyes wander to my desk. “And _where_ are your supplies?”

“Oh—um, the headmaster had me doing testing this morning, and I have not been permitted to return to my room to—” 

“Kitten.” His tone is even sharper now. “Look at Aoba’s desk, next to yours.”

I shut my mouth instantly and look over at the desk on my right. 

“Describe what you see, please.”

“H-he has h-his t-textbook open, p-pen at the r-ready, and n-notebook open. Sir.”

“Is it neat and tidy or messy?”

“P-perfectly n-neat, sir.”

“Correct. Now, describe your desk.” 

Swallowing my humiliation, I say timidly, “I-I o-only h-have th-the t-textbook, sir.” 

"Is it open to the correct page?”

“N-no, sir.” But how could it be? I just entered the room! I glance over at Aoba’s desk to see what page he is on, and the pointer Ryuuhou is holding comes crashing down against my desk, startling me and making all my fur stand on end. I hear several appreciative murmurs from the students behind me, probably watching with amusement at how much bigger my tail looks when bristled. 

“I didn’t say you could take your eyes off your desk, Konoe.”

“I-I’m s-sorry, sir.” Humiliated tears burn my eyes, which return to my desk. 

“How were you planning on taking notes in this class?” 

“Um, I-I d-don’t know, sir.” My voice lowers to a whisper.

“Well, perhaps you see yourself as something _special_ since the headmaster thought it would be perfectly _fine_ to interrupt my precious class time with your late arrival. And since you have nothing else with you, you may use the blackboard to take notes today.” 

My stomach turns unpleasantly in my stomach. 

“P-please, sir,” I beg, keeping my face lowered. 

“I could share my supplies with Konoe, sir,” suggests Aoba, and he hands me a pen. I have never been so grateful to see a writing utensil in my entire life. When I reach out to take it, however, that slim pointer stick comes down with a whack! Almost too fast for my eyes to see, the loud sound makes my ears twitch and my fur fluffs out in fear. And then sharp, stinging pain registers in my knuckles, right where I was struck.

As if it’s been burned, I yank my hand back to my desk, a small yelp stuck in my throat. I can’t remember the last time another cat has actually _hit_ me as a form of discipline, and tears brim in my eyes—humiliated tears, hurt tears, anxious tears, pained tears.

And I bring my gaze up to Ryuuhou once more, tears glistening on my eyelashes. 

“Sir?”

“I apologize, sir,” Aoba says, leaving the pen on the floor. 

“Pick it up, Konoe,” Ryuuhou growls. “Then use the blackboard for your notes. You can take sufficient notes for the entire class to copy, I assume?”

My whole body is trembling, and I rise from my seat on unsteady legs. I think I might be sick. I am wary of that pointer, so I walk behind my own chair, rather than passing in front of the instructor, for fear he may strike me again, and I crouch down to pick up the pen, and I lay it on Aoba’s desk. 

“Go on.” 

Hesitating for a moment, I dare to ask one more question. 

“Shall I b-bring the t-textbook w-with m-me?” 

“For gods’ sake, get your ass to the blackboard or so help me I’ll give you a whipping you won’t soon forget!” Ryuuhou snaps.

I scurry up to the blackboard without further delay and look around for a piece of chalk. I have never in my life written on a blackboard. I’ve used charcoal and pastels, but only on paper. I’ve never been to school—and this is _not_ a good first experience, I have to admit. I feel sick when I look behind me at the sea of my fellow students looking back at me, so I turn back to face the blackboard, waiting for Ryuuhou to begin the lecture. 

“As I was saying, before our new little princess interrupted, about the history of the Void. Even now, we don’t know what caused it, but there are several competing theories.” 

Ryuuhou waits for a moment, and I write on the board:

> What caused The Void? 
> 
> Theory 1:

And I wait. Ryuuhou seems satisfied, and so he continues.

“Of course, the first theory says the Void was caused by a scientific aberration in the atmosphere. Some believe there was a strange weather anomaly, which escalated, perhaps even from when Two Canes still walked our earth, and some random rain cloud caused the Void. The resulting cross-pollination of flowers made it spread, and that would explain its slow start and the ever increasing speed of its eventual rapid progression.”

I continue taking notes as he continues lecturing, writing down what I think is most important or interesting, trying my best to write neatly and not smear or squeak the chalk on the board. I don’t look behind me or over my shoulder, but it’s embarrassing to do this in front of an entire class of students that I don’t know. I’m sure I haven’t made the best first impression. 

But I find the topic interesting. 

The second theory of the Void was that it was caused by sorcery. It is thought that the Void was the result of a spell gone terribly wrong, or the result of a terrible spell cast purposely to destroy the world and start afresh.

I find the very idea frightening, for what I know and remember of the Void, it rejected the presence of Ribika itself—so if it was on purpose, the sorcerer who cast the spell would have been rejected from the very world he or she created. Who would want to destroy everything—including themselves? How terribly wrong must their world have been, how much must they have suffered to do such a thing?

The last theory is that the Void was an act of Ribika, an act of the gods themselves. Each sect believes something different, but the general idea is that we as a people had grown too proud to acknowledge the gods, just as the Two Canes had. As we no longer relied on the gods, they saw fit to start a new world.

I don’t think I believe in vengeful gods. But even so—gods so upset that they would destroy their own creation? Creatures who once loved and worshipped them? They must have been terribly wounded to do such a thing. The very idea makes my chest hurt even thinking about it.

“Your assignment, which will be due on Monday, is an essay, in which I’d like you to discuss these theories behind the Void. You can either present the one you find most credible and why, the one you find least credible and why, or another topic involving these theories of your own choosing,” Ryuuhou says. “If you need help with an idea, please talk to me before or after class, or during office hours. Are there any questions? Noiz, what is it?”

“It was really helpful to have that little kitten taking notes today. I understood a lot more of what you were talking about since his notes make your talk much easier to understand. Can you make him do it again tomorrow?” The cat speaking is a tall, young blonde with short, spiky hair, a deep soft voice with a slight accent—he’s not from around here, that’s for certain. He has lime green eyes that almost glow.

My ears flush pink at the compliment. Did he _like_ my notes? Maybe I shouldn’t have been so embarrassed.

“This was meant to serve as a punishment, Noiz. And I hope Konoe will be on his best behavior tomorrow. Although I’m sure he’d be happy to lend you his notes if you ask nicely.” Ryuuhou looks at me carefully. He looks less than pleased with me. “Any other questions? That will be all, then.”

I head back to my desk to pick up my textbook, while the other students file out of the class as quickly as possible. Ryuuhou grabs me by the ear before I can escape, making me yelp. My poor ear has seen more abuse today than in its entire life!

“Please—sir—I did as you asked— _please_!” I beg.

“Listen, kitten. Don’t be late to my class again, or you will regret it. Do you hear me? Don’t interrupt, don’t speak unless you’re asked a direct question. Do you understand?”

“I do, I _do_ —I’m sorry, sir!”

“And if you forget your supplies again tomorrow, you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

“I won’t, sir, I promise!” His words make me shudder.

Cool dark blue eyes stare down into my own, and his touch finally lightens. While he doesn’t completely let go, he loosens it enough so he can brush the fur through his fingers with his other hand almost gently. His tender touch is even more unwelcome than the harsh pulling of my ear. 

“You are going to be _quite_ a popular one. Now, off with you!”

Another nervous shiver courses through my body and I make a quick escape, and my arm is grabbed right when I step outside the door. I flinch and nearly scream with fright—but it’s only Aoba. 

“I’m sorry,” Aoba says, a sheepish look on his face. “I really didn’t mean to get you in trouble. I should have known. Ryuuhou definitely has a type, and you’re it.”

“It’s okay,” I shrug. “I’ve just never been to school before and didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t mean to get you involved. I really was trying to be friendly.” 

“Yeah, that can be hard here.” Aoba gives a wry laugh. “Come on, let’s go get changed for PE.”

“Hey, have you seen my friend Tokino around? I haven’t seen him all day.”

“I haven’t,” Aoba says. “But they kept me in the tower last night.” He looks down as he says this, glum and sad. I don’t want to press if he looks that miserable, so I don’t ask anything else. I just hope Tokino didn’t get himself in trouble. I shut my mouth and follow the blue-haired cat upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virus collects Konoe after his exam, pleased with his performance for the silver cat, which was part of Konoe's unwritten exam. He permits Konoe to dine with him, and he is fed an extravagant lunch in private with Virus, who explains that is education will be in part to be able to win the affections and attention of such an alumnus.
> 
> Konoe has a bit of a crush on Rai and is game, but doesn't quite understand what Virus means by "companion," of course. He is sent to get is newly tailored uniform, and the headmaster brings him to his afternoon class--contemporary history with the instructor Ryuuhou.
> 
> The instructor does not appreciate the new student interrupting class, and Konoe doesn't have any supplies with him. He raps Konoe's knuckles when Aoba, who is sitting next to him offers to share a pen and paper with him, and instead makes Konoe takes notes at the blackboard--the most embarrassing thing ever for our young student.
> 
> But the lecture is interesting--on the competing theories of the Void, and what caused the beginnings of it. After class is dismissed, Ryuuhou threatens Konoe again, pulling his ear harshly and touching him inappropriately. Konoe makes his escape awkwardly and meets Aoba outside, who apologizes for getting him in trouble. They get along well and head upstairs to change for PE.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another short update that you should skip if you have a history of abuse or are triggered by such stories. I've included a summary at the end in the chapter notes.
> 
> Konoe heads off to PE.

Fortunately, my summer athletic clothing didn’t need alterations, so I have something to wear for our physical education class. Aoba is very chatty—almost as though he hasn’t been with other cats for many days and cheerfully tells me about the school, the teachers, and the other students. 

As I listen to Aoba chatter away, I’m not sure if I will have all that much contact with the other students. In fact, I’m not sure I’m supposed to attend PE class, but I get ready just the same if only to avoid another mishap like not having my school supplies in today’s history class. I would hate to be embarrassed again! 

Following Aoba’s fluffy blue tail downstairs, we head outside to the gardens. It’s lovely—the flowers are in full bloom, including cattails, which wave around temptingly in the soft warm breeze. In my village, cattails were considered dangerous, as their blooms can easily distract cats by tickling their instinct. Cats can’t help themselves and simply attack them, causing accidents and preventing real work from getting done. Karou's elder ordered all of them to be cut down, so I’m surprised to see these flowers here. I try my best to ignore them since Aoba says we are to line up for attendance.

The instructor isn’t here yet—Trip teaches this class—and neither is Tokino. While I ruminate about the kind of trouble he could have gotten himself into, my eyes catch one particular cattail blossom that seems to have it out for me. It wiggles temptingly in my direction, _just_ out of reach. Once a Ribika’s instincts are tickled, there’s really nothing to be done—and I can’t help myself. I pounce, jumping out of my assigned place in line and catching it in my clawed hands. I’m successful in my hunt and pin the blossom to the ground.

Unfortunately, Trip chooses to make his appearance right at the moment I’m in mid-air with my claws drawn. It’s embarrassing enough to have to do this in front of my classmates who don't seem at all affected by these tempting plants, but to be caught by my _teacher_ —and the one who punished me earlier today—is even worse. My pupils, which were probably narrowed to slits in order to hunt this now hated cattail blossom, widen in shame and apprehension when I see Trip smirking down at me.

“What do you think you’re doing? Disrupting class? Drawing your claws without express permission is forbidden at this school. You should have learned your lesson earlier,” he growls, approaching my cowering body in three long strides.

He grabs my ear and pulls me to my feet, and my hand shoots up—my claws still drawn in order to loosen his painful grip, while I cry out. The only thing more sensitive on a cat than his ears is his tail, and my poor ear has seen more than its fair share of abuse today.

“Now you dare draw claws at an instructor? My gods, pretty kitty. You’re in for _quite_ a public lesson today. On your knees!” 

I have to obey or he won’t release my ear. I’m quaking with fear, on my knees in the grass in front of the row of obedient students who knew to resist the call of those wild blossoms. I start to beg, trying to choke back tears. 

“Please—sir—the cattails—th-they t-tickled m-my instinct, and I-I c-couldn’t h-help m-myself—” my voice is shaking as much as my body, and I feel my ears burning. I don’t want to start yet _another_ class with an embarrassing public reprimand.

“Pretty kitty, here at Applebaum’s, you will learn to _control_ your instincts. It’s my job to help train you to control yourself. Hold out your hands, palms up.”

I obey, silently, my arms shaking. Keeping my face lowered to my hands, I raise my gaze for a moment to look at Trip. He has that cold, predatory look on his face again—as though he is anticipating something delicious. It sends a shiver down my back.

“Students who cannot keep their claws from extending will receive a physical reminder to do just that. You will receive five strokes, which I expect you to count. If you fail to count, lower your hands, or try to move them, I will start your punishment from the beginning.”

I try to steady my hands—but this is fucking _ridiculous_!

The whistling sound of a rattan cane makes my ears twitch forward. The cane connects with the palms of my hands with a loud, firm thwack! The noise is terrifying, but the pain that follows is excruciating. I’m surprised by the pain's intensity, too—it’s much worse than when Ryuuhou struck my knuckles an hour ago. This stroke creeps up into the pads of my fingertips and makes my knuckles feel swollen and heavy. Tears flood my vision reflexively.

“Konoe!” Trip’s loud voice interrupts my loud sob. “I told you to _count_!”

Thwack!

“Ah! Two!” I yelp, trying to keep my hands steady.

“I don’t think so, pretty kitty,” Trip lifts my chin with the tip of the cane, taking a good look at my already tear-stained face. “You didn’t follow my instructions, so we are starting over.” His words make my heart sink. 

Thwack!

“One!” I sob desperately, locking my elbows in place. 

“One _what?”_ Trip purrs, smiling down at me. He is _enjoying_ himself, enjoying inflicting suffering on me, enjoying my humiliation.

Thwack!

“One, sir?” I ask tentatively, tears dripping down my face.

Thwack!

“Ah—two, sir,” I manage, raising up my arms after lowering them slightly. Trip looks like he is considering starting over. “Please, sir.”

Thwack—thwack!

“Mmm—three and four, sir!” I cry, the pain oozing into my claws and up my wrists, nearly to my elbows.

Thwack!

“Ah—five, sir! Thank you, sir!” I burst into tears, sobbing. My palms are bloodied and welted, and I cannot close my hands into fists. My claws extend half-way on their own now—and I’m unable to extend or withdraw them. I want to lick my palms to soothe the pain, but I have not been given permission to move.

“Very good, pretty kitty. Unfortunately, you’ll have to report to Virus. Aoba, please take him to the headmaster.”

“Yes, sir.” Aoba comes over to me and helps me stand by pulling me up by my shoulder. He tries to shush me, but my hands and fingers are simply throbbing. And for what? Because I was playing with the cattails?

He doesn’t speak until we arrive at the headmaster’s office. Before he knocks, he whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

“Come,” Virus calls from within. I follow Aoba inside, my ears and tail drooping. “Well, now. If it isn’t our star student! Causing problems for Trip as well? Aoba, you may return to class.”

Aoba casts an anxious glance in my direction and then leaves, closing the door behind him. 

“I warned you the training would be rigorous. So far you have not shown me your willingness to work toward our goal.” 

“I-it was a s-silly m-mistake,” I murmur. “M-my instincts w-were t-tickled b-by the c-cattail and I—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Konoe. Drawing claws and baring fangs are acts of aggression. They are _unseemly_. They will not be tolerated at this institution. Do you understand?” That word again:  _unseemly_ _._ I'm beginning to hate that word with a passion.

“Y-yes, s-sir,” I stammer. My fingers and claws are throbbing with every beat of my heart. 

“Now, you have your physical reminder, but I think I’d best do something to protect my charges from you, should this physical reminder fail to serve its purpose.”

“Sir?” My stomach drops to my feet—he is speaking without any change to his polite tone, and my ears perk up. I become terribly anxious and I watch what he is doing carefully. He has opened a desk drawer and is searching for something. He pulls out a pair of clippers. 

“‘I’d best clip your claws to be sure you don’t accidentally hurt a fellow student here. Don’t you agree?”

“Sir?” Clip my claws? Simply trim them? I’ve never done that—but won’t that leave me defenseless? It makes me nervous, but it shouldn't hurt, should it? 

“Come here, please.” 

I obey, thinking things will only get worse if I don’t comply, so I walk around the desk to his side. He rolls his chair out from under the desk and pulls me into his lap. It’s terribly intimate to sit in another cat’s lap. I absolutely _hate_ it! I can hear his breath purposely huffing in my ear.

“You smell nice, kitten. Give me your hand.” His voice purrs directly into my ear, and I lift up my shoulder defensively but try not to squirm. He takes my right hand in both of his, examining the welts. I wince as he runs his fingers across them.

“How lovely. Does it hurt?”

“Y-yes, sir,” I whimper quietly. 

Then he pushes against the palm of my hand, right against the worst of the welts, making me scream in pain as my claws extend. The blood currently pooled in my hand excites all the nerves and makes them go wild. 

Once my claws are extended, he begins clipping my nails—starting with my pinky. He clips them as close to the nail bed as he can get, occasionally nipping skin as well—and it _hurts._ My palm is burning, my fingers sting, and each claw throbs unbearably as he clips it, leaving the broken nail clippings on his desk. My face is covered with fresh tears by the time he gets to my thumb.

“Now, let me see your other hand.”

“Please—sir, I won’t _ever_ disobey again! I won’t let my instincts get the best of me—I  _promise_ , sir! _Please_ —I will do better!” I whimper desperately, pleading with everything I have. 

“I’m sure you will, my promising little kitten. Now, give me your left hand.”

And so, I have to obey, and I scream in pain, shuddering each time he clips a claw. My welted hands are a disaster, and my claws barely extend when he is finished. I’m crying exhausted, bitter tears when he finishes my thumb.

“There we go. A hard lesson, but one you won’t soon forget. Now, let’s dress those hands to prevent infection.”

Keeping me on his lap, crying softly, I watch as he digs a small first aid kit out of the top left drawer of his desk. He pours a little disinfectant on a cloth and dabs it against my right palm—the burning reaches all the way to my elbow—and I scream in agony.

“Hush now, kitten. This is for your own good.” Virus seems to be enjoying himself—he dabs the cloth several times more than necessary and then winds a gauze bandage around my palm. I cringe, knowing my left hand is next.

It burns just as much—and again, all the way up my elbow—and I scream again. I’m relieved when I see that gauze winding around my hand, covering up those welts.

“Now keep these wounds clean. Remember, just because you are already injured will  _not_ save you from further discipline if you require it, Konoe. Make sure you pay attention. Don’t do anything _unseemly_.”

“Yes, sir,” I sniff quietly.

“Don’t you have anything else to say to me?”

I think for a moment, trying to figure out what he wants to hear.

“Oh—yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” A wave of nausea sweeps over me when I hear the words slip out of my mouth. But I will do whatever I have to do to get out of this office.

“Of course, it’s my pleasure to train you. We will make a success out of you yet. Now hurry on back to class.”

“Yes, sir. Excuse me, sir.”

I get up from his lap and make my escape, drying my tears and trying to calm myself as I go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aoba and Konoe change for PE and line up in the garden outside, where Konoe spies cattails, waving temptingly in the wind. His instincts are tickled and he pounces on one and catches it--just as Trip, who teaches PE, comes outside to take attendance. Konoe makes an "unseemly" impression, as he has his claws drawn and fangs bared to catch the cattail.
> 
> Trip punishes him severely by caning his palms, which Konoe doesn't handle well. He ends up with more than the five strokes he has been given--it's obvious Trip is enjoying punishing our favorite little kitty. Once his hands are welted, Trip sends him off to Virus, who determines his claws need to be clipped. Virus does that in the most painful way possible, too. And then he disinfects Konoe's hands and wraps them in gauze, not letting him leave until Konoe "thanks" him for the lesson.
> 
> Poor little kitten is a mess by the time he is sent back out to PE.
> 
> (I just feel like I should thank Konoe for helping me get through a rather painful day today.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe has PE, which doesn't go so well despite "help" from Noiz. Showers don't go well either after the palm caning since Konoe can't use his hands. However, he does get a nice surprise during mail call.
> 
> Trigger: abuse, teasing, nudity, non-con touching.

_Badminton_. They are playing a game involving racquets when I return from Virus’ office, my hands bandaged. Trip smiles slyly at me.

“Welcome back, pretty kitty. Pick up a racquet, and wait for your turn. Do you know the rules?”

“Um, I’ve never played.” I’ve heard of the game, of course, but we didn’t have access to this sort of leisure activity in the village I grew up. I spent the majority of my day protecting and defending my territory, hunting for food and medicinal herbs, and trying not to starve. I don’t say all that, though.

Trip explains the rules and hands me a racquet. He watches with absolute delight when I cannot even hold the racquet in my injured hands. I can’t make a fist, and my nails are killing me, too—each finger throbbing in its own right. I try holding it in my left hand with the same problem.

“You’d best figure out how you will be participating, or you will be punished for your unwillingness to participate.”

“I’m sorry?” My body prickles with fear at the sound of absolute desire in his voice.

“Should I just send you back to Virus now? He will be _most_ disappointed in you.” 

“ _Please_ —I will work it out!” I insist, but Trip nearly laughs out loud. Having pressure applied to my already hopeless situation makes me even more flustered, and I am near panic by the time my name is called to switch out with the next switch of opponents. 

I try holding the racquet in both hands and keep dropping it, plus I can’t swing it. My opponent is Noiz—the tall, blonde student who complimented my note-taking in history, and he is trying to hit it to me easily, I realize—especially when he sees how scared I am.

“Sorry—I’ve never played—and um, I can’t seem to—”

“Let me help,” Noiz says. He walks up to the net. “Come here for a minute.”

I am relieved for his assistance—he seems like such a nice young cat.

“Are you right- or left-handed?”

“Right,” I say.

“Okay, take a deep breath in,” Noiz says, and when I do, he forces my right hand closed around the handle of the racquet firmly, making me scream. Pain shoots up my arm into my elbow and down into my fingers, and my fingers hurt when my claws extend in reflex. “Hush, it will only last a moment.”

He holds my hand in place for a few moments, while I am screaming and trying to pull away, but weirdly, my hand starts to hold the racquet. He even wiggles it a little—which hurts like a son of a bitch—to make sure I’ve got a firm grip. I feel like I might be sick.

“Sorry about that, kitty, but you _don’t_ want to go back to the headmaster’s office during the same lesson. Trust me. That’s what Trip told you he’d do, right? You won’t be able to sit for a week.”

“What?” I am struggling with trying to get my tears under control, but that information scares the shit out of me.

“Yeah, it would be much worse for you than this. Believe me, I’ve seen it. You have _got_ to get yourself out from under their radar. Now, play—I’ll hit the shuttlecock to you directly. You just tap it lightly to get it back over the net. Underhand is easiest for beginners. Got it?”

I don’t know whether he has helped me or hurt me—but I have a feeling he _meant_ this as help. I look up at his lime green eyes, and he stares right back at me and smirks. I take a slightly shaky breath. 

“Um, thank you.”

“Sure. I think you’re going to be a fun little addition around here,” he grins mischievously and walks back to his place. “Ready?”

I manage to return a few serves back to him, but each time I hit the shuttle with my racquet, a shooting pain rushes through my hand and up my elbow. It’s _excruciating_! I try to quiet my voice and manage silent wincing instead. I play the rest of the period without further incident, and Trip looks mildly disappointed.

“All right. Inside and hit the showers. You know the drill. Show the new kitten where to go and what to do.” 

Tokino is still nowhere to be found. I look everywhere—and he isn’t in this class. What has _happened_ to him?

I follow Aoba to the showers, keeping my head down, really not at all excited about showering with a bunch of cats I don’t know. 

“Just throw your clothes in the laundry there. We usually just wear towels back to our room, though you can get a robe if you want,” Aoba says, watching me rather closely, as I grab my basin from the cubby in the first part of the bathroom. “We have free time after this, so take as long as you want.” 

“All right.”

“I’ve found if you always use that conditioner on your fur and hair, it gets really soft and shiny—and much easier to manage,” he continues. I notice he is also following me really closely—and I’m not sure if it’s because he wants to protect me from something or because he is interested. Are his social skills just awkward—or is it my imagination?

He strips his shirt off overhead and tosses it in the laundry. When I take mine off, I notice small initials, KK, embroidered on the inside collar of my shirt. Is this so it’s easier to find my items? Konoe of Karou, possibly? But not anymore. I fluff up my tail when I strip off my pants and keep myself modestly hidden while walking into a shower stall—I take the closest one so I don’t have to parade down the aisle, but that’s a mistake. It seems everyone can simply peer into my stall as they walk by—and many of the cats do, some spending more time than others, including, much to my annoyance, Tomoyuki.

He leans up against the side of my shower stall and peers in at me when I’m washing my hair, and I don’t notice him at first. I’m about to rinse when I notice that orange hair—and I fluff out my soaked fur in surprise.

“Ah, looks like your day only got worse from this morning. Learn your lesson yet, kitten?”

I don’t reply at first, but I think better of ignoring him. I turn my back and look over my shoulder.

“Yes, sir.”

He seems shocked by my timid response.

“Well, they must have got you good, then. Glad I could be of assistance.”

I try to use the conditioner, but it’s hard to get it out of the bottle with my hands bandaged and damaged. Tomoyuki just watches me my struggle with a certain gleam in his eye.

“Don’t be a dick, Tommy,” a deep flat voice says behind him. 

Noiz walks up behind the prefect and pushes him aside. He takes the conditioner from my hand and pours some in my hair, and then combs it through with his fingers. He’s actually standing naked in the shower— _with me_. It makes me _extremely_ uncomfortable, and I flatten myself into the corner, but he doesn’t mind what I’m doing.

He also—to my utter embarrassment—runs the conditioner through my tail, which makes me shiver and shudder.

“Oh, you’re a sensitive little kitty, aren’t you? Could be fun.” He smiles softly, and his voice is teasing. Aoba peeks his head around the shower stall and barks at Noiz.

“What are you doing? Noiz! Get out of there! Can’t you see he doesn’t like it?!”

“What—are you _jealous_?”

“N-no—”

“You know I’m not like that. I’ll do yours next. He just can’t use his hands, you see. We have to make him feel at home here, especially now his friend has gotten himself in trouble. He will be better in a day or two, I’m sure. Virus clipped his claws awful short, and the welts are too fresh to use.”

“My friend? You know what happened to Tokino?” I ask, my voice desperate.

“Yep. But you’ll have to figure out what to do for _me_ if you want me to _tell_ you.” Noiz smiles, showing me both rows of his teeth and large fangs.

“ _Do_ for you?” I echo.

“Yep. As in _exchange_. I’ll tell you all about it. Maybe… in exchange for a little _kiss_ ,” he whispers that last part into my ear.

“Noiz! Stop it! He will think you’re being serious!” Aoba says, obviously agitated.

“I _am_ being totally serious. I don’t give away my services for free, you see.”

“I didn’t _ask_ for your help!” I sputter.

“No—and I just wanted to touch you, so don’t worry about the conditioner,” Noiz winks. “Enjoy the rest of your shower. And come see me if you want information on your little friend.”

I finish up my shower, turning back toward the shower head, facing the wall, rinsing the conditioner from my hair and fur, then drying myself off, ignoring any stares. I walk back to my room, wrapped in a towel, after combing out my hair and fur, dressing myself in my clothes.

Aoba helps me with my hair and fur—brushing through my hair and fur, styling it in a braid and smiling softly at my reflection at the mirror.

“You look nice, Konoe,” Aoba says. “Let’s go down to tea.” He hands me my hat, and I follow him out the door.

I follow him downstairs to the garden, where afternoon tea is set up in small groups of four. I sit next to Aoba, where we are joined by Noiz and his roommate, an albino cat with pink eyes, Clear. He’s a quiet, polite boy, who keeps his eyes glued on Aoba, who has his eyes on Noiz.

I look around for Tokino, and he _still_ isn’t here. I sigh quietly, sipping my tea.

“Oh, look—mail call!” Clear says, excitedly.

“Wow—what _is_ that?” Aoba asks, amazed. I look up, and Trip is standing with a bundle of mail in his hand and a gigantic bouquet of flowers in the other.

“Konoe!” Trip says sharply. I flinch at the sound of my name, and my teacup rattles against the saucer slightly. _Shit_! What have I done now? I look up nervously. “Apparently,you _pleased_ your guest this morning.”

“Sir?” My voice quivers nervously. I’m confused.

“Those are for _you_ , Konoe!” Aoba says, excited. “Wait—you entertained the silver-haired cat this morning? He was _hot_!!”

“He was _fine_!” Noiz agrees. “Is _that_ why you’re not giving me the time of day?”

Trip walks up and hands me the bouquet. It’s beautiful—and big—mostly pink flowers with some white and some others, and it includes a note. I don’t look at the note right away. Instead, I bury my nose in the flowers. They smell wonderful, especially the exotic, white and pink lilies and the tuberoses, which remind me of jasmine. There are roses mixed in—large pink roses in different shades, each as big as my fist—and they are so beautiful they look unreal. I’ve never seen such gorgeous flowers in my life.

“This makes me think you _did_ something to the silver cat you haven’t _told_ me about,” Trip murmurs quietly into my ear. “I’m sure Virus will be interested in this development.” His words make me flatten my ears against my head, and I shrink away from the larger cat.

When he leaves, I pull the card out of the bouquet and open the envelope. Inside is a beautiful note, embossed with the single initial, R. I open the folded, heavy cardstock. The handwriting is a beautiful script, and it reads:  

> For the kitten with the beautiful pink ears,
> 
> Study hard, Konoe.
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Rai

“ _Yours_?” asks Noiz, over my shoulder. “What did you do to him to make him ‘yours’? I saw that gigantic beast of a cat—and there’s no way you could make him ‘yours’ in that short of a time! What the hell did you let him _do_ to you?”

My jaw drops in horror. I didn’t _let_ him do _anything_ to me—except, well, lick my ear, and I didn’t exactly “ _let_ ” him do that. He just did it on his own! I’m insulted!

“You certainly move fast,” Aoba murmurs, “but he’s the right choice, for sure! He’s been coming here a long time, I hear, and he’s _never_ sent anyone flowers before!”

“You did well,” Clear muses. “You’re very sweet. He probably really likes you.” Clear has a friendly smile on his face.

“Um, I should put these in my room,” I say, embarrassed by all the attention. I need to escape, and I don’t know how else to get out of this situation. The vase nearly slips out of my hands, however, when I try to lift it, and Noiz catches it.

“Whoa, let me get that for you!” Noiz carries it for me.

“N-no, it’s all right! I-I will manage,” I insist.

“Oh?” Noiz asks. “It’s no bother.” 

“N-no, let me—”

“I’ve got it,” Noiz is already making his way up the stairs. He knows which room is mine, of course, and walks ahead. I wanted some time alone and now I’m stuck with him.

I follow him with a sigh.

“Do you know what happened to Tokino?” I ask on our way.

“I told you I did. But what will you do for me in _return_?” Noiz asks casually.

“You already asked me that. I don’t understand what you _want_! I mean—what do you want from me? I have nothing to give you!”

“I might settle for whatever you did for the silver cat,” Noiz says. 

“I did _nothing_ for him! I was taking an exam when he came in!”

“He didn’t touch you?”

“Well, I didn’t _let_ him touch me, nor did I encourage it,” I say, slightly flustered.

“Ho? So he _did_ touch you?”

“Well, he licked my ear as he was leaving, and he kissed the back of my hand when he first arrived. Is that what you want? My hands are pretty fucked up.”

“Really? That’s it?” Noiz sounds disappointed.

“Yeah. He just talked to me.”

“What about?”

“Nothing! About where I’m from, that I’m new here—really, nothing. I didn’t do _anything_!”

“So—you didn’t _like_ him?”

I stop for a moment. Noiz has walked to my door and pushed it open, and he walks inside, but he turns around to look at me when he asks me about Rai.

“I, um, I didn’t say that.”

“I see. So you _do_ like him.”

“He was kind to me,” I say softly.

“ _Kind_?” Noiz says, unbelieving. “The silver monster was _kind_?”

Monster? Who is he even _talking_ about? I feel slightly defensive. 

“He was _not_ a monster! He was kind-hearted and gentle, and he treated me with a tenderness I haven’t seen in a very long time!” I insist.

“Where would you like these flowers, pink-eared kitty?”

“My desk, please. That note was _not_ meant for you.”

“No, but I saw your ears blush in class today—several times. It’s quite fetching. Did you blush for him, too?”

“I don’t blush on purpose!” I snap.

“But don’t you? Look at all the attention you’ve received. Isn’t this your goal? I don’t know how you could aim higher, frankly—the pickiest client? On your first day? What are you trying to do? Undermine us all?”

“Of course not! I would never—”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Noiz finally sets my flowers down at my desk. He suddenly grabs my arm and drags me over to the desk and pushes me into the chair, forcing me into it, looking into the mirror through the flowers at my reflection. “Tell me, wouldn’t you rather see him standing behind you than me?”

“Well, yes—because _he_ would never handle me so roughly.”

“Is _that_ what you believe?”

“I _know_ it; I don’t just believe it.”

“Hou, you’re so certain based on that _single_ interaction. So why _do_ you think he came here?”

“I... I do not know. Perhaps he was looking for someone to fulfill his apprenticeship position?”

Noiz laughs out loud, and I find it annoying. How could he laugh so brazenly at my expense? “In some way, you could call what he is offering an _apprenticeship_. Certainly, he will _train_ you. Train you for what services I wonder?”

“Well, what does he do?”

“He is a professional swordsman—a bounty hunter.”

“A bounty hunter?” A slight sense of fear crawls up my neck, making my skin shiver. That fits, but it frightens me.

“Oh, yes.”

“He is training others to be bounty hunters like him?”

“No. What do you think happens when a bounty hunter travels alone for a long trip—say several months at a time from home?”

“What do you mean?”

“He might get _lonely_. The mating season may come and go, and he'd be alone! Hence he is looking for a _companion_ to fend off those cold nights.”

I don’t say anything. I wonder— _companionship_ or like, for sex? Perhaps for both? For assistance as well? I don’t really care! I’d go. I remember how my body felt around him, and I didn’t dislike it at all. I _enjoyed_ his attention and his touch quite a bit. It hurt when he left. I would put up with a _lot_ to be able to spend it with him, even if I was afraid.

“Kitten, you can’t have made up your mind after just _one_ guest—especially not the one guest who will surely eat you _alive_!”

“But... he wasn’t _like_ that,” I insist—but my words fall on deaf ears. I’m not sure I even believe them. The proof is in these flowers, isn’t it?

“A tiny cat like you would be much more suited to the inn, I think. The kind old man at the inn—he will _adore_ you. You will only have to serve the clientele, do some light cleaning, see the customers to their rooms, and probably see to the old man's desires as well. That should be easy enough, right?”

That sounds boring—and I _really_ don’t want an old man. I want _Rai_ —the young, beautiful one who sent me flowers that matched my ears.

“Why are you discouraging me? Did he approach you, too?” I try to keep the jealousy from my voice. It’s Rai's prerogative to see as many cats as he likes. I have no say in the matter. I'd be lucky to catch his attention. I know that.

“Just—I don’t want one as sweet as you to get your hopes up, kitten,” Noiz growls.

“I have been disappointed plenty of times, even in my short life, don’t worry.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Noiz says, “Still, I’m concerned.”

“Because _you_ want him? How many other times has he approached another student? Sent them flowers?”

“Shut up,” Noiz threatens. “You know damn well you’re the first. And now, you’ll be receiving extra ‘training,’ courtesy of the headmaster himself, I’m sure, so you will be prepared to thank him yourself, the next time you see the silver cat makes an appearance.”

“What kind of _training_?” I ask, now nervous. I don’t want to have _anything_ to do with Virus—not after what he did to my hands today. He _hurt_ me!

“Come on, you can’t be as naive as you look!” Noiz blurts. “We’d best get you back downstairs—since he will be looking for you soon.”

“N-no—I don’t _want_ to go!” I protest, digging my heels in. “I-I’m not feeling well. I should stay here...” 

“They don’t care if you’ve got a fever or are vomiting. If they think it’s time to train you, you _will_ be trained. I can’t stop you, though, if you _really_ want to find out the hard way! Trust me—I did, despite the warnings. Do what you want.”

Noiz turns and leaves me alone in my room—leaving me alone with something like a rock in the pit of my stomach. Surely, he must have it wrong—Rai _was_ kind to me. And these flowers are beautiful. No one has ever made me such a frivolous gift before. They won’t last long—they are just for _me_ to enjoy for a week or so before they wilt and return to the earth from which they came. However, during that week, I will enjoy their scent, reminded of his soft hair each time I bury my nose in them. They are so very lovely. 

The first flowers I’ve ever been given came from the elegant silver cat. What I wouldn’t give to feel his lips press against mine, too, and his hands on my body... my mind starts to wander, shockingly, to a place it has never traveled before. It doesn’t matter that he is male and so much bigger or overpowering. Perhaps that is _why_ I find him so enticing—that fact that he could do whatever he wanted to me, and he _didn’t_ —unlike what has happened here so far.

I hear a commotion in the garden downstairs. It’s Virus, making a fuss. He appears to be searching for someone. I stand up from my desk, pulling myself away from the bouquet and walk toward the window, but I don’t move the lace curtains, remaining hidden in my room. Is he calling me? Angrily?

 _Shit_.

What should I do? I should go downstairs and see what he wants. My feet start moving, but I am anxious. But wouldn’t it be worse if he found me here?My body starts trembling uncontrollably, confused, not knowing what to do. I will be punished if I go downstairs and it will be worse if I let him find me here.

Noiz does not say anything about where I am, thankfully. I shudder from the inside of my bones—it’s revulsion, plain and simple—but I can’t avoid this.

I leave my room and walk downstairs with my heart beating in my mouth, a nauseated feeling hanging in my stomach, my teeth chattering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noiz "helps" Konoe with badminton--he has a hard time holding the racquet--and he manages through the rest of the period. And also, Noiz takes it upon himself to help him with the conditioner, since he can't do it himself in the shower, much to Konoe's embarrassment.
> 
> Then, Aoba helps him get dressed and with his hair, and they go down for free time and tea. Mail call is interesting since Konoe is sent a gorgeous bouquet of flowers from the pink cat. He is slightly embarrassed but delighted. While he doesn't care for the attention, his hands won't hold the vase. So Noiz "helpfully" carries it to his room, suggesting Konoe might do whatever he did for the silver cat for him.
> 
> Konoe stays alone in his room till he sees Virus looking for him frantically in the garden, and is torn whether he should go and be punished, or hide in his room to possibly be punished worse later on. He decides to face Virus, which is where we leave him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virus calls for Konoe to come into his office and upsets him terribly by talking about how he might be expected to “thank” the silver cat, specifically two weeks from now at the next social gathering. It doesn’t go well.

“Where were you?” Virus corners me the moment I appear at the landing of the staircase. He’s inside the mansion, apparently looking for me. I have a horrible, sinking feeling in my stomach.

“I just put the flowers in my room,” I reply quietly. For a moment, I consider running back upstairs and closing myself in my room. What kind of doorknobs are on the doors? Handles or knobs? Would I be able to brace it shut by putting a chair underneath? My mind is too slow to think. “Don’t we have free time now until dinner?”

“The _other_ students do,” Virus corrects me. “ _You_ have accelerated lessons. Follow me to my office.”

I watch him walk down the hallway and I don’t want to follow him. I do not want to go back to his office so soon! He just hurt me in there! How do I know he won’t do it again? 

“Konoe!” Virus snaps impatiently over his shoulder, making my feet respond. They scurry down the stairs quickly, making my decision for me. Surely, disobeying him would be far worse! I walk into his office making as little noise as I can, hoping that what? He will forget I’m here?

 _Ridiculous_!

“Close the door behind you, kitten,” he says easily, opening up one of the desk drawers. “You’ve had a shower and your bandages are a mess.” He pulls out fresh gauze, scissors, cotton, and disinfectant, and my body starts to sweat. 

“I-I used s-soap,” I stammer. “I-I’m sure my wounds are c-clean. I-I o-only n-need f-fresh b-bandages, and I-i c-can d-do that—” 

“Hush, kitten,” Virus purrs almost tenderly. “As headmaster, I see to the physical well-being of each and every of my students. Come sit.”

“R-really! I-I d-don’t w-wish to w-waste y-your t-time,” my mouth is dry, and I lick my lips desperately. 

“Haven’t you earned yourself enough discipline for today? Obey me, and come sit on my lap. Let me care for you.” 

More than reluctantly, I drag my feet to his side of the desk, but I do not sit down. Tears burn my eyes when I look at that bottle of disinfectant. It’s going to sting, and even I know there is no need to use it so soon! 

“Please,” I beg. “Don’t do this!”

“Konoe, kitten. Are you really going to get into a contest of wills over wound care with me?” Virus peers through his glasses at me, his eyes an odd, creepy clear blue—unearthly. “This is for the sake of your health.”

“I just—”

“Sit,” he says firmly, patting his knee and leaning toward me. 

I don’t have a choice but to obey. I sit as far out on his knee as I can, but he pulls me in close against his chest, intimately, and begins unwinding the gauze from my hands.

“You did a nice job keeping your hands clean. We don’t want them to become infected, Konoe. You are an important asset. I knew you’d made a good impression on the silver cat, but I didn’t know _how_ good. I’d like you to be ready for our next social function.” 

I cringe when I hear the disinfectant swish around in the glass bottle onto the cotton. Virus continues.

“I told you training would be _rigorous_.”

He presses the cotton against the palm of my right hand when he says, “rigorous.” I yelp, trying not to snatch my hand away. It burns, and he is taking his time, watching my face rather than what he is doing.

“I’d like to avoid marking up your body visibly until then, so I will be employing different discipline techniques—on parts of your body that won’t _show_.”

He presses more disinfectant into my left palm, and I gasp in pain, biting my cheek to keep quiet. Only then does it occur to me what he has said. He didn’t say he wouldn’t discipline me—he said he’d do it where it wouldn’t be _visible_. Does he mean under my clothes? I am utterly horrified, and I can’t believe my ears.

“Between now and the next social gathering is only two weeks. You will have to learn manners, social graces, current events, and to dance by then. I’m sure it will be most disappointing to the silver cat if you aren’t there. Your free time will be occupied up by additional lessons. And, I suppose you realize you will need to thank Rai for his generosity, for sending you the flowers.” 

I shudder slightly—not because there’s anything distasteful about thanking the silver cat, but because of Virus’ tone. He sounds creepy. 

“Thank him how?” I ask.

“However he would like. First, of course, you will write him a note. Then, at the next social, you will isolate him—in a room or in the garden—just the two of you alone with nothing but privacy—and you will suggest you would like to thank him by letting him do whatever he likes to you.”

A cold sensation creeps up my spine, starting at the base of my tail, making my body shiver.

“Wouldn’t that be unseemly?” 

“No. He is expecting it. He will probably want you on your knees—which will be painful for you, but not nearly as painful for you as if he fucks you.”

 _What_? What are we talking about? Isn’t this about thanking him for sending me flowers? Why am I suddenly being treated like a prostitute? I suddenly feel physically ill.

“Sir—please—I need to excuse myself—please—” 

“Hush, kitten. I’m trying to explain how this will work. If I find out you _haven’t_ managed to isolate the silver cat as I’ve suggested—no, as I’ve _commanded_ —there will be hell to pay.”

“I’ll be right back, I promise, please! Sir! I’m going to be sick! I don’t want to do it in your office!”

“Get a hold of yourself, Konoe. This is your life now. Learn to deal with it, and for gods’ sake, pay attention!”

“But I’m going to be ill!”

I get up from Virus’ lap suddenly, and he growls at me.

“Sit your ass back down!” he hisses fiercely. “We are only just getting started!” 

I put my hand over my mouth and start gagging. I wasn’t joking about being sick. 

“Kitten, if you dare throw up in this office, you will regret it,” he growls low. 

But vomit isn’t something you can stop, once it starts. I start coughing and gagging—I _hate_ him talking about the silver cat in such a vulgar way. I end up throwing up on the floor all over the carpet, falling to the ground on all fours, because I don’t make it out of the door. He’s grabbed my tail and yanked me back inside.

“My gods—you’re such an innocent that you can’t even discuss the act without sicking up? Pathetic!” Virus is disgusted. “I’ll need to find a faster way to teach you that what we do here is much more gentlemanly than what you _could_ be doing, and we’d best desensitize you fast. How are we going to fix this? You are a mess!”

Virus calls for help for cleanup. 

“You are much more relaxed now, though, aren’t you?” He looks at me thoughtfully. “That’s something to keep in mind, I suppose. Go upstairs, freshen up, and brush your teeth. Then, you will be punished for your disobedience. We still have to write that thank-you note as well.”

Punished? Because I threw up? I feel utter despair. 

“Don’t give me that look or I’ll double your punishment! Go, now! You have five minutes.”

Tears leak from my eyes as I rush upstairs. I find my toothbrush and brush my teeth, get a drink of water and rinse out my mouth. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I don’t know what look he was talking about—the one that would double my punishment. What did he mean? I’m really scared to return to his office, so I also wash my face—using a towel so my hands don’t get wet.

I hurry back downstairs, though, trying to make it within the five minutes he has given me. I’m disappointed to find Virus standing in the doorway of his office, carrying something in his hand. I don’t have a chance to see what it is since he grabs my arm.

“Let’s make the most of this, shall we?”

He pulls me outside into the garden, where the rest of the students are still drinking tea. 

“Dear students, I’m afraid our newest student has disobeyed me, yet again, on his first day here. He is _not_ getting the message that we mean business here at Applebaum’s, so he is about to experience the most effective punishment we have. Because I’m your headmaster and I care about your education, I will use this is a learning opportunity for all of you, so I will have you witness it, as humiliating as it may be for him.”

I feel sick to my stomach again—even though I just threw up and it’s what got me in trouble, to begin with. My body starts to shake and rebel, as much as I try to cooperate.

“Please, sir—I couldn’t help it,” I mumble, loud enough so only Virus will hear.

“You disobeyed, and now you are showing no remorse,” Virus says, glaring at me. He drags me up in front of the students, to the table where most of the tea service has just been cleared. “You will do exactly as I tell you, or I will add a penalty.”

My stomach roils uncomfortably—and loudly—and I am pushed up against the table.

“Grab onto the far edge of the table, please,” Virus says.

I comply, bending over the table as he requested, and my feet nearly lift off the grass. My ears fill with blood—this is humiliating and confusing—being displayed in such a way.

“I heard you are pretty shy about your body, kitten,” Virus says, quietly. He is fiddling with my belt—clink, clink—and unbuckles it.

“ _Please_! Sir! Wait!” I let go of the table to stop him, but he smacks my ass—hard—over the seat of my trousers, which are stretched across my behind. I give a small yelp.

“Remain in position until I say you can move.” I hear the sound of my zipper and the pop of the top button of my trousers, and tears of shame and fear overflow from my eyes. 

“Please—Virus— _Please_!” I know what he is going to do before he does it—and he works my pants and underwear off my hips, pulling them down to my knees, much to my shame, exposing my bare backside to the entire student body, currently enjoying their tea on this lovely summer afternoon.

“Shut your mouth until I do something to you that warrants tears!” Virus snaps. I feel a surprisingly cool breeze against my hot skin, and my tail flaps around, obviously expressing my shame. I dig into the edge of the table with the tiny nubs left from my claws, and it’s painful. This is the most humiliating thing I’ve ever had to endure in my entire life—and all because I got sick?

“This is what we do to disobedient kittens at Applebaum’s. Konoe has had plenty of opportunities today to demonstrate his obedience and submission to our rules. And yes. He may be one of our most promising students. However, that does _not_ give him free rein to do as he likes. Take note, my dears, and let this image be burned into your mind the next time you think of disobeying an order. Half a dozen lashes, assuming he maintains his position.”

I can hear several students talking among themselves. 

“What did he do?”

“I knew that students were paddled in his office, but I’ve been here three years and have _never_ seen one humiliated publicly!” 

“He really must have got on the headmaster’s bad side!”

“But how? I mean—you saw him in history, didn’t you? He’s as meek as mouse!”

“I wonder if the headmaster just wants to put him in his place.” 

“I heard he got his mouth washed out with soap thanks to the prefect this morning, and the prefect was cursing just as much as he was!”

“Poor kitten’s hands are ruined from that caning Trip gave him in PE...”

“Think they trimmed his nails, too?” 

I want to plug my ears and I can’t. If I do, I will let go of the table and no longer be “in position.” I do not want to hear any of this talk! 

Suddenly, something smooth and cool is pressed against my exposed skin. I gasp loudly at the strange sensation—it’s an odd, almost sensual feeling, really—but embarrassing and humiliating. Is it leather? Oh, gods—a leather strap?! Shit! A small protesting whine leaks from my lips and words tumble from my mouth in a frantic stream.

“Oh please oh please oh _please_ —Virus—please you don’t have to do this— _please_ don’t—I will behave—I didn’t mean to be sick I couldn’t _help_ myself I don’t know what happened and I will _never_ do it again I promise _please_ —!” 

“I’m sure you won’t, kitten,” Virus says, as he steps away from my body. I grasp onto the edge of the table, painfully digging what is left of my claws even deeper, through the tablecloth and into the wood, and I swallow my last, frenzied plight. He _wants_ to punish me, and he wants to do it publicly. Was my sin really so grave an offense, or is he trying to train me for something?

I lower my face to the table, looking straight down, and my tears soak the tablecloth below. I hear the crack of the strap in the air, and it makes my ears flick back toward the sound, and I would do _anything_ to escape this situation right now. Faster than I think possible, and with a rich, satisfying popping sound, the leather strap connects right in the center of my bare bottom. It sends a sharp, stinging burn through my hips and jolts my body toward the far edge of the table. I yelp in response to the pain, and I hear several students wince on my behalf.

“Count,” Virus says to me. “Count out loud, and thank me for the training.” 

“O-one, thank you, sir,” I murmur through my tears. I hear the crack of the strap flying through the air even before I’ve finished thanking him. 

“Ah! Two—th-thank you, sir,” I mutter into the table, tears streaming freely down my face. I try to keep my ass relaxed—I think flexing will only make it hurt worse, so I try to submit—submit to the punishment for vomiting—even though I gave him a warning. 

The strap cracks again, and smack! The rich sound of leather meeting skin fills my ears before the pain really registers, but my ass is already on fire. This lash hits on the fleshiest part of my behind, and I can feel it jiggle. 

“Mmm—three—thank you, sir,” I cry softly. Half-way through, I think, I can _do_ this, I _will_ get through this!

Smack! This blow connects right where my ass and thighs connect—and it burns and sends a strange tingling sensation through my hips and groin, making the fur on my tail bristle. It hurts a lot more than the first three, and I scream in pain and have to catch my breath.

“Ahh! F-four, thank you, s-sir,” I wail.

Smack! Virus brings the strap down against my unprotected thighs, slightly below where he landed the last blow. It sounds slightly different—not as rich of a sound, since there is more muscle in my legs and not as much fat to absorb the blow. I kick up my feet, wheezing in pain, and one of my hands releases the edges of the table to cover myself. 

“ _Please_! Ow! Please, sir! Five—uh—thank you, sir!” I beg desperately. 

“Resume the position, Konoe,” Virus says firmly, waiting for me to move my hand. “I’d hate the damage that pretty little hand of yours. And get that ridiculous tail under control.”

I try in vain to prevent my tail from swaying wantonly, but it’s a hopeless task. The minute I bring my hand back into position but before I have it fully in place, the strap comes down again, right on my sit spot—and it burns so much I think I might actually wet myself. My thighs clench, my muscles flex, and I scream.

“Ah! Six—thank you, sir!” Ignoring my embarrassment, I cry openly, stand up, and start rubbing my bottom tentatively, trying to disperse some of the pain—but I hear Virus clear his throat. 

“Kitten. Didn’t you hear me when I said you were not to move from that position till I released you?”

My hands stop, freezing in place, and I turn my tear-stained face toward Virus, staring at him in disbelief. A sea of faces—students I don’t know—are watching our interaction or at least getting a full view of my naked and punished behind. 

“ _Did_ you?” he repeats the question, threateningly.

“Yes, sir.” My voice is very, very quiet. “I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“Resume the position for your penalty.” 

“ _Please_ , sir—I don’t think I—” I am frantic now, unable to control myself. I really can’t take anymore!

“If I wanted to know what you thought, I’d have asked. But I don’t, so I didn’t. You are _still_ disobeying me after a lashing like that? Resume the position or suffer the consequences.” 

A last-ditch, utterly hopeless wail escapes my mouth, and I turn my body around, forcing it back into position, and I grab the edge of the table. I flinch, lowering my ears fearfully when his hand touches my ass—I can feel raised welts there already. 

“You don’t have to count these. But don’t you dare move.” His voice is quiet and sounds sexy—almost as though he is aroused. I’m horrified and scared. 

“Yes, sir,” I reply tearfully, my voice shaking in fear. “Th-Thank you, sir?” 

Smack—smack—smack—smack!

I’m shocked by the rapid succession of lashes that rain down on my body. My legs kick up helplessly from the ground when my ass, my thighs, and the sensitive space in between are scattered with blows. Each scream blends right into the next, becoming one long, breathless wail.

Smack—smack—smack—smack! 

I lose count after eight—two more than the six he originally prescribed. After the first set of penalty lashes, my body lies helpless against the table, simply taking each blow one after the other, and I am crying loudly, sobbing. Will this _ever_ end?

Virus finishes me up with two more—one really mean lash against my thighs and one more against my sit spot, which causes that strange, painful heavy sensation in my hips—and I am in tears.

“Now. What do you say, kitten?”

I struggle to stop my tears and catch my breath—my ass feels like it is burning, and my ears are burning in utter humiliation and embarrassment. As soon as I calm myself, I answer him, hoping to please him enough so he will stop! 

“Th-thank you, sir, f-for the v-valuable l-lesson.”

“I assume you have learned it well, then.” 

I still do not move—I’m scared even to breathe—and even the soft warm breeze hurts my tender skin. I don’t know how I will be able to sit tomorrow!

“Now, here’s what you will do,” Virus whispers in my ear—and his lips are touching the outside of my ear. It’s like an intrusive version of what the silver cat did—but he is ruining it! “You will wait for me in my office, where you will write that thank-you note. Then, you will spend the rest of the evening in your room, considering your offense. Tomorrow, you will spend the entire day off-campus, receiving in-person training at a local inn that works with us regularly. You can decide for yourself whether you really desire my help or if work at an inn is more suitable than winning the affections of that elegant silver cat.”

Virus slaps my ass with his open palm one more time for emphasis—and I bite my lip to prevent crying out, but fresh tears spill from my eyes.

“Dress yourself and wait in my office.” 

“Y-yes, sir. Th-thank you, s-sir,” I mumble quietly. I release the edge of the table and use it to push myself up to stand, gingerly pulling up my trousers and underwear, which have fallen to my knees. It burns to have anything touch the fresh welts. My shaking hands and fingers fumble with the button and zipper on my trousers and struggle with my belt. I keep my face lowered to the ground and I head inside, noticing Virus has poured himself a cup of tea and is resting contently in a chair in the shade. 

Once inside, I try to sit on the couch, but it’s incredibly uncomfortable. At least the vomit has been cleaned up. I wait as patiently as I can, drying the remainder of my tears, while I remain standing. My body shivers anytime anything touches my ass. He must make me wait a good fifteen or twenty minutes, but I don’t say anything at all when he returns to the office.

“Now, let’s write the thank-you note,” Virus has a pleasant smile on his face, and he looks relaxed and refreshed, almost as though he has had a nice nap. Did he _enjoy_ punishing me? Wasn’t that awfully severe for something I couldn’t help? I try not to think about it. “Sit down, Konoe.”

I give Virus a pleading look, and he returns it, expecting me to obey. 

“What are you waiting for? You can’t very well write standing up, can you?”

“N-no, sir,” I mumble. I sit down in the chair he has motioned, at the very edge, and it burns my thighs just the same. I try not to wince.

“The great thing about a lashing is that it has _lasting_ effects. For the next few days, you will remember it—the humiliation, the pain, the actual event— _every_ time you sit down or something brushes your backside. I find it to be quite effective. Perhaps you will obey me from now on. I did warn you your training would be rigorous.”

He hands me a pen and a notecard. Fumbling to find a comfortable position to hold the pen, I manage it.

“Dear Rai,” Virus dictates. “Thank you ever so much for the lovely bouquet. The flowers are simply beautiful! Assuming my training goes smoothly, I will be permitted to attend our next social in two weeks. I would love to thank you in person if you will be in attendance.” He stops for a moment. “With love, Konoe.”

I finish writing exactly what I am told, only slightly disgusted with myself, and I hand the note to Virus for inspection.

“Hmph. Your handwriting is passable, I suppose.” He blots the ink and puts the card in an envelope and seals it. “Now, off to your room. You will want to get to bed early since you have a very early start tomorrow.” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” I say, bowing my head. I am relieved to get out of his office but am accosted by Trip on my way upstairs. “Sir?” I ask him nervously. 

“I was just awfully impressed with what I saw at tea, pretty kitty. And wow—tomorrow you’re off to the inn! I wonder if the owner of that place will let us have you back? He may purchase you from us outright.”

 _Purchase_ me? I shudder at his words—but he cannot possibly be saying anything truthful. He must be trying to rile me up! I don’t reply at first, then think better of it.

“I thank you for the opportunity to learn, sir.” 

“Oh, it’s our pleasure,” Trip says, reaching out and grabbing my tail. Having his hand so close to my ass is really making me nervous. “Sweet dreams, little one.” He swats my butt playfully, which brings tears to my eyes. 

I make a fast escape and hurry up the stairs. The first thing I notice when I enter my room is the lovely fresh floral scent—the beautiful bouquet that Rai sent me for no particular reason. 

The silver cat was _kind_ to me. That is one thing I can hold onto tightly. I will see him again—and the gods only know what Virus expects me to do to him or him to do with me. But I would do just about _anything_ for sake of kindness, at this point.

As I’m changing into my pajamas, and I look at my body in the mirror. My ass and thighs are covered in raised, broad welts, and the rest of my butt is as red as kuim. I touch the welts gingerly, not knowing what to do. If they were on a different area of my body, I’d leave them open to the air or lick them with my tongue, but I share this room with another cat and I can’t exactly reach them. I don’t want to be rude. Perhaps for just a little while—until after dinner—I will give them some air.

I put on just the top of my pajamas and strip off my underwear and leave them and the bottoms on the side of the bed. Then, I crawl into bed, turning on my side on top of the covers, letting my wounded skin feel the breeze from the window. I feel _awful_. Fresh tears flood my eyes the moment my head hits the pillow.

Where is Tokino? What am I even _doing_ here? How on earth am I going to make it here if this was only my first day?

I allow myself a short time to cry—I haven’t cried in a long time before today, and today I’ve cried more than I have since I lost my mother. When it feels as though my tears have run dry, I take a deep shaky breath and stare out the window. It’s still early, and the moon of light is still in the sky.

I’m nervous about tomorrow—working at an inn? I can clean well enough, but I’ve never worked around other cats before. I don’t know what will be expected of me. But instead of worrying about it, I try to bring the silver cat’s handsome face to mind: chiseled cheekbones, an elegant nose, that gorgeous ice-blue eye, that soft, gentle smile—a genuine smile. And that soft silver hair and soft fur, and wonderful clean scent. That’s what I imagine when I drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The vulgar talk about the elegant silver cat and Konoe’s role here upset him enough to make him sick. He tries to escape—giving Virus a warning he needs to throw up—and ends up throwing up on the carpet, after being “forbidden” to do so. Virus is pissed and tells him to get himself cleaned up and then come back downstairs for his punishment.
> 
> The headmaster turns Konoe’s lesson into a group lesson/performance by giving him a public strapping. He’s earned six lashes but can’t hold the position and earns a bunch of penalty lashes. In tears, humiliated, embarrassed, Konoe is ordered to wait in Virus’ office.
> 
> He can’t even sit (poor kitty), but is made to in order to write a thank-you note, which Virus dictates. Then he is sent to bed, being told the following day will begin early—as an in-person training session with a local inn keeper.
> 
> Konoe is really discouraged and upset. But he of course think of Rai to go to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe has a rather grueling day at Bardo's inn. But he does get to know a fellow student.
> 
> Trigger warnings: embarrassment. forcible wound care, non-con touching, and non-con stripping.

Before the dawn of the moon of light, I’m shaken awake. It’s very early, and I’m startled to see a cat I don’t recognize. He’s short but has a very fit build and a serious face, his silver hair and fur seem to almost glow in the dim light. His piercing blue eyes threaten me when he whispers to wake me. 

“Konoe. Get dressed. We only have a few minutes before we have to leave. You have to hurry or you will be punished again, and you don’t want that on the ride, believe me.”

I slide out of bed, realizing I’m only dressed in my top, and I blush deeply, but the silver-haired cat is already gone. I pull on my clothes as quickly as I can, fix my hair, and grab my hat and am pulling on my boots as I rush down the stairs where I find the silver-haired cat waiting.

“Keeping us waiting again, Princess?” Trip asks me, keeping his voice quiet, probably for the rest of the house, which is asleep. “Do you like being punished so much? I’d best treat your wounds before you go.” 

I cast a glance in the silver-haired cat’s direction, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. Trip nods toward Virus’ office and motions for me to follow. I obey without complaint.

“Let me see your hands first.”

I hold out my hands while standing before the desk, realizing with horror that Trip has said “first.” Does this mean he intends to look at the wounds from the strapping I received yesterday as well? I shudder helplessly as my bandages are removed and nausea rises when I hear the disinfectant swish in the bottle. I look away when I see the cotton pads being pressed against my palms and I bite my cheek to keep myself from making any sound at all.

It stings, but not nearly like it did yesterday—I’m relieved. He wraps my hands again quickly and then looks at me firmly.

“Let’s see the damage from yesterday’s strapping as well.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” I begin.

“Are you sure you want more? Because if you don’t lower your pants right now, that’s what will happen.” Trip’s voice is low and hard, leaving no room for negotiation.

I swallow hard and struggle with my belt—my hands shaking—and then my trousers. I lower my pants as instructed, and Trip stands up, walking behind me.

“Smart. Even a shy kitty like yourself knows to leave welts like this open to air. Good for you.” Disgustingly, I feel a hand travel up the inside of my bare thigh and to my buttocks. I straighten up, flinching suddenly, moving my hands from their position on the desk to protect myself, but he responds, “Keep both hands on the desk.”

I hear the swishing of disinfectant from the glass bottle again and I try to remain quiet when he rubs my welts down with it. I can’t, though. It’s too painful—the welts burn, and sound leaks out, even despite my biting the inside of my cheek.

“Hush up, or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Really, a healing salve or ointment would be better than disinfectant—in my opinion—for welts from a strap—at least in a place like this. But I keep my mouth shut and only small groans escape my lips. I’m shaking when he is done and my ass feels twice its usual size.

“You sure look pretty, kitty. I’m sure you’ll have an interesting day today. Keep in mind _that_ could be your future if you don’t comply with our teaching here.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” I mumble, keeping my eyes on the floor.

He drags me back out to where the other cat is waiting, and Trip makes sure he leads us both to the carriage. My ass is burning when I sit down, and I have no idea how long we will be riding. Shivering slightly, I look at the silver-haired cat.

“I’m Konoe. What’s your name?”

“Akira,” he answers, looking out the window.

“Do you know where we are headed?”

“To an inn on the outskirts of Ransen.” 

Ransen? _Shit_! At least an hour, probably more, in this carriage! I shift around in discomfort. 

“Lie down if you want,” Akira says. “I won’t tell and you’ll be more comfortable. The work is hard, and you won’t have a chance to rest once we get there—plus the customers are a little handsy.”

“Handsy?”

“They tend to grab at you,” Akira eyes me carefully. “I was relieved to see you were coming with me since they will probably leave me alone this time.”

“Is this a punishment?” I lie down on my stomach, taking the pressure off my ass.

“I think it might be, for you,” Akira answers. “It’s a fast way to learn your place as well as customer service. But the owner isn’t really that bad—at least if he doesn’t really like you, anyway.”

I feel slightly sick. The carriage jolting around is making me worse, and I can’t see out the window lying on my stomach. I’m used to walking everywhere I go. And I’m nervous. 

“What will I be expected to do?” I ask.

“Wait tables, serve food, be nice to the guests, clean—anything else they require.” Akira looks at me carefully. He must be older than me. I wonder how long he has been here. “Don’t worry about it. There’s on-the-job training.”

“All right,” I say—but the sick feeling in my stomach doesn’t go away. I manage to drift off to sleep about half-way there, and I don’t wake till the carriage stops. 

“Konoe.” Akira is shaking me awake once again, and I think I might actually be sick. Did I eat anything at all yesterday? I cannot remember! Yes—lunch with Virus, which I threw up in his office. “We are here.”

“Ah, okay.” He climbs out first and I follow, looking around. There isn’t much supervision—at least that I can see. I wonder if I could run away. Would I want to? Where would I go? If I did—would I be able to find that silver cat again? And what—just leave Tokino behind? What kind of friend am I?

I follow Akira into a medium-sized, older building—he enters through the back door, and he heads into what looks like the lobby. There is a huge tiger cat sitting at the reception desk. 

“Akira, nice to see you—and who’s this?” The tiger stands up—and he’s easily as big as the silver cat, if not slightly broader in the chest and shoulders. I shrink away slightly, hiding behind Akira, but he pushes me to the front, and says, “Konoe, this is Bardo. He is our boss today.”

“Nice to meet you, Konoe.” I can’t look up at the sound of his deep voice, and I can feel him looking at me. “I’m not sure I have a uniform that will fit you. You’re a tiny little thing, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, sir,” I say quietly, though I hate people commenting on my size. Fuck him! 

“Come along with me. Akira, you know what to do.”

“Yes, sir,” Akira says, and he walks into another room, leaving me alone with this terrifying tiger. I sneak a peek at him. His amber eyes are scrutinizing my form, and he has black hair and a black beard. He’s a bit older—perhaps in his mid-30s, I’d guess.

“You’re really quite sweet. Let’s find you something to wear.”

I follow his long striped tail into a small room—and to my horror, it’s a _bedroom_. I flatten my ears against my head in an instant, nervously swallowing and shifting on my feet. He is obviously looking for something in the wardrobe, but I’m scared to be in a bedroom alone with this giant. He’s pulled something out and put it on the bed—a gray yukata with black trim on the sleeves and hem, and a red collar and obi. I’ve never worn something like that, so I look at it with confusion.

“The nice thing about these is that we don’t have to worry so much about sizing,” he says confidently. “You’ve worn one before, right?”

“Um, no. Sir.” I stare at it for a moment then glance up at his face. What do I do?

“Go on. I’ll drape it for you.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“Um. _Here_? Sir?” I look around, and Bardo closes the door and stands in front of it with his arms crossed.

“Here. _Now_. Go on.”

“What about, um, Akira? He could help me? I’m sure you’re busy. Sir.” I glance up at those amber eyes again carefully, hoping I’m not about to earn myself another beating. 

“Konoe, you said your name was?”

“Yes?”

“You’re quite new to the school, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” He can tell? That’s not good. _Shit_. If he doesn’t beat me, will he give me an unfavorable review? Then, will I be made another spectacle of when I return home?

“Listen. The work here is hard but fair. Your fine uniform will be ruined if you work in it. I know the headmaster probably had it specially tailored for you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, sir.”

 "So, let's keep that in mind and wear the work uniforms here to keep from soiling your school clothes. They are easier to clean and move around in, anyway."

"Um... yes, sir." But I just stare at the yukata on the bed rather than making a move to take off my clothes. I do not wish to strip in front of another cat!

“So _polite_. So _agreeable_. Yet you will _not_ do as I ask.”

“ _Please_ , sir!” Tears flood my eyes in an instant, and I don’t know what to do. My body won’t move. I’ve already been embarrassed once today—less than two hours ago. I don’t even know this man! What if he— “Uwaa!” 

Bardo takes two steps closer to me and grabs my cravat and begins to untie it. I flinch away, trying to escape, but the only place I can go is backward. I back up against the bed, which is even worse. I do not sit down. My tie is easily removed and his hands move to my waistcoat.

“ _Please_! Sir!” I beg, desperate to stop his hands, putting my hands on top of his much larger ones, trying to tear them from my body. I try turning away, but even facing away from him, he easily removes my vest. “Please!”

“It’s normal for someone your age to be a little shy,” he murmurs into my ear, moving his hands to the buttons on my collar. “We have a _lot_ to do today, so, unfortunately, I do not have time for disobedience.”

The tears in my eyes slip down my cheeks and I look down, watching as my shirt is stripped from my body. He’s not forceful, nor particularly handsy, as Akira warned, but my fur is fluffed out in alarm, my nubs of claws are drawn and my fangs bare defensively. I blink when my shirt is slipped from my shoulders. A single tear splashes on the back of his hand when he moves to unbuckle my belt.

“What is this?” My face is tilted up and back at a rather sharp angle and I instantly drop my eyes. However, I am unable to hide my fangs in time. “Tears?”

“ _Please_! Sir, please! D-do n-not p-punish me!” I sob, still not meeting his eye. 

I’m met with silence. And his hands move from my body, but they land in my shoulders, turning me toward him. A loud, breathless sob escapes my mouth when I realize he is waiting for me to speak, or at least meet his eyes.

“Konoe. Look at me.”

“P-please, sir,” I gasp, finally raising my eyes, tears sparkling from my lashes. "Please, d-don't h-hurt me."

The face that meets mine is kind—his eyes are soft and gentle, not harsh or mean. His expression makes even more sadness well up inside me, and fresh tears spill from my eyes.

“Hey, stop this. Now, now. This is _not_ torture. What’s the matter? We are just finding you a uniform.” He slips the sleeves of the yukata onto one of my arms and invites me to do the other. “You finish undressing yourself. I’ll get you something to drink.”

He disappears for a moment, and I do as he asks. I try to get my tears under control. There is a pair of funny-looking sandals for me to wear, too, so I slip off my shoes and socks as well, leaving my clothes in a neat pile, my breathing hard and fast. I feel ridiculous and embarrassed. 

The robe is much too long for me—I see my reflection in the mirror on the back of the door—I have no idea how to—what did he say— _drape_ it? So I sit quietly with the fabric pulled snug around my body, taking deep calming breaths.

He comes in a moment later, and he is carrying two mugs. It smells like lavender and mint, but it’s sweet and rich—like milk and honey. Hot tea with milk or cream? It settles my stomach, too, and helps calm me. 

“There. That’s better, isn’t it?”

“Thank you, sir.” I take another sip. Then I venture, “I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t be. You’re new, right? When did you arrive?”

“The night before last, sir.”

“What?! They’ve sent you out already? Why?”

“I th-think I’m being punished or trained, sir,” I look down at the steam floating off the surface of the tea. “For a s-social?”

“I see. So soon?”

“In two weeks, I was told, sir.” 

“Hmm. Well, perhaps they don’t find you compliant?”

“N-no, sir,” I say, somewhat sadly.

Bardo smiles, taking a sip of his own tea.

“Can’t you do as they ask?”

“I believe I _do_ , sir!” I insist, but I’m ashamed of my reply. “It’s not good enough, or fast enough, or to anyone’s liking, apparently. I’ve not spent much time around others, sir.”

“Oh? Where are you from?”

“Karou, sir, but I’ve lost my home.”

“Has your family sent you here?”

“I have no family, sir.” 

“Ah. I see.” My ears are rubbed softly, and the tender gesture reminds me of the elegant white cat. “You will get used to it, I’m sure. You will be quite popular.”

“Thank you, sir.” I don’t know what else to say. I drink the rest of the sweet, hot tea in silence. 

“Shall I help you now?” 

“Yes, sir.” I try to be obedient, and I stand up when he does. Bardo stands behind me and has me face the mirror. He wraps the obi around my waist while tucking the excess fabric of the yukata under it at the same time. It’s like watching origami—very impressive, and not something I could repeat. He hands me a thin piece of elastic rope.

“Use this to keep your sleeves out of the way if necessary. Oh—are your hands wounded?”

Instinctively, I lower my hands to hide them. But he gives me a warning look.

“There is laundry to do, dishes to be washed, cleaning to be done. If you have wounds on your hands, I don’t want them to get worse.”

“Um, yes, sir.”

“Did you fall?”

“No, sir. I-I was c-caned.”

“On your palms? Before you were sent to me? Yesterday?” Bardo sounds exasperated.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” I sound miserable. My ears and tail are showing my distress.

“Why not somewhere other than your hands, for gods’ sake?”

“They did that, too. Sir,” I admit that quietly. I look down, completely mortified.

“What did you say?”

“I said, I was strapped as well, sir.”

Bardo rubs his hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. I don’t know if he’s frustrated with me, though—but it feels like it. I back up just a little.

“Listen, they should _not_ be punishing you on your first day, Konoe. It’s just I have mostly physical labor here, and I don’t know what to do with you now. Are you good with numbers?”

“Yes, sir!” I brighten up. I’m very good with them, and I’m eager to be useful.

“See what you can make of my books, then—at least till lunch.”

I follow Bardo to the lobby, and he sets me at the desk. I’m given a mess of receipts—the books are a mess, but like a puzzle to be solved, so I get to work.

Akira passes through several times, quietly looking at me or nodding at me. I return his greeting. I hope my lack of usefulness doesn’t make him have more work, but he seems fine. I work till the lunch hour when guests begin to arrive. Bardo asks me to seat them, and then we serve them food.

It’s a _lot_ of work—taking orders and bringing food to the right tables—also, keeping my body and tail and ears out of the way of the guests’ somewhat grabby hands. I end up pulled into the laps of several customers while Bardo isn’t looking. It hurts my ass—incredibly—the welts burn like nothing else—and I try not to yelp. But it happens and it gets a reaction. 

Akira pulls me aside, warning me that will only encourage them. I watch how skilled he is at dodging tables and hands, and I wonder how much practice he has. Tears leak from my eyes when one guest pinches me—but I hide them as best I can.

I don’t _like_ serving food—and that is the main job here. We do that from lunch onward—even through the afternoon into the dinner hour—late into the evening. Akira helps clean up while I continue serving guests. It’s horrible, grueling labor.

I can’t wait to get back to the carriage. At the end of the night, I’m exhausted—and can barely change back into my uniform. Bardo sends us on our way with a basket of food—we are both hungry. We eat in the carriage on the way home, and both of us sleep after eating—or even during our meal.

It’s late in the night and silent when we arrive home. Akira whispers we should quietly shower since we won’t have time in the morning. Sleepily, I follow him up to the bathing chamber, and he makes sure I don’t fall asleep in the bath. 

He walks me back to my room. 

“You did much better than I did my first day, Konoe. I’m glad you were with me today.”

He doesn’t say much, I learned, but what he says is kind. I thank him, then push open the door to my room. I’m greeted by the gorgeous aroma of those pretty pink flowers—I’d forgotten all about them. I bury my nose in them for a moment before pulling on my pajamas, touching the heavy cardstock of the card from the elegant silver cat reverently. I hold it to my nose. Can I smell that cat’s scent on it now? I’m too tired to be able to tell.

I take the card to bed with me and fall asleep with it clutched in my hands.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe sleeps well and goes to breakfast with Aoba. Trip meets him afterward, dragging him into Virus' office, who informs him he will be receiving a visitor who is known to help discover young Ribikas' "hidden talents." The visitor is Arbitro.
> 
> You may want to skip this to the summary if Arbitro wigs you out.
> 
> Trigger warnings: humiliation, non-con nudity, medical exam, hairbrush spanking. Poor kitty!

The next day, I follow Aoba’s lead—getting dressed, straightening the room before inspection, and then follow him down to breakfast. He is chipper and full of questions, though slightly spooked when I mention Akira came with me to the inn. 

“That guy—he’s _frightening_ ,” Aoba says quietly. “I mean, I’m no slouch and can hold my own, but man, he is really, _really_ good in a fight.” 

“A fight?” I ask. How would that even come up here, I wonder? Would Virus and Trip let students fight? 

“Yeah, and Trip beat the shit out of him when he first got here, but the headmaster had to bring in help. Ah—you haven’t _met_ our fencing instructor, have you?”

“N-no,” I reply. “I don’t think I’m permitted to take part—”

“But it’s a gentleman’s sport!” Aoba says. “You’ve been defending your own home for years, haven’t you?”

“I have, but not with fencing,” I say.

“What did you use?”

“Well, my sword and my claws,” I answer.

Aoba hums in response. “I’m interested to see what the instructor makes of you. He has a _thing_ for Akira.”

A thing? What kind of thing? It’s none of my business. To my dismay, Tokino is still not at breakfast! What has _happened_ to him? While looking around, Noiz—the tall, muscular blonde with green eyes—meets my gaze, as if he can read my mind. 

After breakfast, Trip is waiting for me. I cringe and my stomach feels upset when I see him standing there, smirking at me. He could simply ask me to follow him, but instead, he roughly grabs my ear and pulls me out of my chair, a small yelp escaping my lips.

“What did I do??” I clutch desperately at my ear, angry I wasn’t able to duck in time. “ _Please_ —I’ll come with you—willingly—sir— _please_ —if you would just—”

“You need to get used to the idea of others touching you and your body not being your own to do with as you please anymore. I don't like your attitude. You’re to see Virus this morning for private lessons and to see what sort of special talent you might have.”

“Talent?” I echo, relieved when Trip releases my ear in the hallway.

“I have a pretty good idea where you’re going to end up. Personally, I think it would be better to teach you what to expect, but Virus thinks you’ll be worth more if you’re clueless and innocent.”

An unpleasant revulsion shivers across my fur at his tone, and I feel distaste bubbling up like bile. What is he talking about? I don’t ask, and I’m unceremoniously pushed inside Virus office. 

“Ah, good morning, Konoe,” Virus purrs, looking over the top of his glasses at me. “Did you enjoy yourself on your outing yesterday? I heard there were problems.” 

“Wh-what? N-no—I d-did everything asked o-of m-me—s-sir,” I can’t keep the fear from my voice, and it stammers desperately. “ _Please_ , sir!”

“Show me your hands.”

Tears blur my eyes—my palms are not healed from their last caning, and I can’t imagine being punished on top of these healing wounds.

“Oh, stop, now. I’m only treating your injuries. Hush. I want to remove your bandages if possible. For you have a guest today.” I’m relieved when I’m not going to be beaten again.

“A guest, sir?”

“He is a regular customer of ours who has taken some troublemakers off our hands in the past. He has a gift for finding certain hidden talents among our new students. I think you will get along well. Just beware: if you don’t do as he says, he will force your obedience.” 

“I-I w-will obey, sir,” I say, watching the cotton come down on the palms of my hands. Again, the sloshing of the disinfectant in its bottle makes my stomach turn, but it barely stings. I’m nervous he will want to clean off my ass the same way—but those welts have healed significantly. They didn’t even burn with soap last night. To my surprise, he doesn’t demand that I strip off my pants, either.

“While we wait for his arrival, let’s study current events.”

Virus hands me the newspaper and starts asking questions, sort of in a small-talk way. If I don’t know the answer, he waits for me to find the article and read it. It’s interesting. I’ve never really read a newspaper.

After about an hour—there is a knock at the door. 

“His carriage just pulled up,” Trip says.

“Please, take Konoe to the evaluation room. Wait patiently, and be polite. Remember this school’s tolerance of claws and fangs. I will not interfere if he thinks you deserve punishment.” 

A sudden, cold fear shivers across my shoulders. Exactly what kind of evaluation is this, anyway? But I’m led to a nice chamber, several doors down from Virus. The drapes are drawn and it takes me a moment to get used to the dark. It’s opulent—from the lush carpeting to the gold-foiled wallpaper. There is a sitting area, and I head there to sit and wait, my hands folded in my lap.

I wonder if the room doubles as a guest room because there is a large bed with fine burgundy bedding and a canopy that drapes all the way from the ceiling. As my eyes adjust, I see there is also a bar—completely stocked with wine and liquor. There is no writing desk, and that concerns me more and more, the longer I am made to wait.

I hear a soft click and the handle on the door turns, and I leap to my feet in surprise, fur bristling. I’ve worked myself up into a near frenzy by the time the guest actually arrives. He has a medium build with long blonde hair and short fur. He is dressed in a white suit—not very practical, I think—with a bright pink shirt underneath and a lime green tie. He also wears a feather boa around his neck, and he has a strange, affected way of walking, almost like he is modeling the outfit he is wearing.

To my surprise, he is wearing a mask over his eyes, which makes it hard for me to read his expression.

“Ah. So you must be Konoe. I am Arbitro. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you.” His voice is gentle and not spoken in his regular tone, almost like he makes it sing-song or higher for my benefit.

“Mr. Arbitro—it’s nice to make your acquaintance, sir.” I keep my voice soft and I lower my gaze.

“What a polite boy you are!” He takes the seat directly across from where I was sitting on the couch. “Do you know how to make any cocktails?”

“Um, well, sir, I just learned last night. What would you like?”

“Your choice.”

I stand up and walk to the bar and fix him a martini. The bar is stocked with fresh ice as well. I’m suddenly thankful for what I learned yesterday. When I bring him the glass, I lower my eyes as he takes it from my hand, and he deliberately brushes my fingertips, which makes me feel uncomfortable.

“Ah, sweet thing. Have a seat. I’d like to get to know you.” Then he peppers me with questions—how old am I, where am I from, what sort of education do I have? None? But how did I manage so well on the exams? I explain about my love of reading. Then he asks about hobbies.

“Hobbies, sir?”

“Yes, my dear. What do you enjoy in your free time?”

“I-I’m not really sure, sir. I’ve never really had much free time. So I read, mostly.”

“I see. Do you dance or sing?”

“No, sir.”

“You have the most lovely voice—I could imagine you singing. I will see you get some dancing lessons as well. It will add to your societal skills and value. I understand you were brought here with a friend?”

“Ah, yes, sir. My friend Tokino.” My heart feels anxious when I say his name out loud.

“What was the nature of your relationship with him?”

“The nature?” I ask, confused. “I’m afraid I don’t understand the question, sir.” 

“Come, come. He would visit your village. Did he spend the night with you? At your house?” 

“If the weather was too bad for traveling, yes. He has spent the night with me.”

“I see,” Arbitro seems disappointed, at first. But then he looks at me. “How old is Tokino?”

“I believe he is a year older than me, sir. Seventeen?”

“So—when he spent the night with you, did he sleep in your bed?” 

I’m surprised at the question.

“My home in Karou was very small, and I would _never_ ask a guest to sleep on the floor.”

“So you would share your bed? With Tokino?”

“In the cold months, I may have done that once or twice.”

Arbitro stops again. Then he drinks the rest of his martini in a single swallow. Then he trains that strangely masked gaze right on me so hard it makes me want to flinch. 

“Now. You must be _honest_ with me here, Konoe. If you lie, I cannot help you. Were you and Tokino... _intimate_?” 

“Intimate? In what way, sir? I mean—he shared my bed—”

“You’ve said as much. But did you _touch_ each other?” 

“Sir, my bed is very small, so yes, I’m afraid we did touch, haphazardly.”

“Don’t be coy with me! I’m asking if you had _intercourse_ with the boy!”

“I-intercourse?” I repeat. He can’t mean what I think he means. 

“ _Sex_! Did you have sex? Oral? Anal? Was there any touching of the parts of your body intended for that act?” 

“Um, uh,” I stammer, completely flustered. I know what sex is, but it didn’t occur to me that I’m old enough to do that yet. And did he say something about oral? Oral sex? What even is that? It wigs me out! “N-no, sir. I-I am n-not old enough. And Tokino is just my friend.” 

“Not old enough,” he laughs softly. “And yet, I heard you’ve already received a bouquet of flowers from a guest. What was that for?” 

“Sir?”

“I mean, what did you do in _return_ for those flowers?” Arbitro is sounding exasperated. 

“N-nothing, sir! I-I did n-nothing!”

“Did you _kiss_ him, at least?”

“N-no! I’ve never kissed anyone!” I can feel my ears blushing.

“Why do your ears blush? Ah! Did _he_ kiss _you_?” 

“N-not exactly—he, um, kissed my hand and licked my ear.” Why do I feel guilty about this? It's irritating me that I am being made to feel guilty for something I didn't hate and something I didn't even do! Was there something wrong with what he did? I _didn’t_ hate it—not at all, in fact, I can still remember his scent quite vividly—but his actions weren’t something I could have helped.

“That is all?” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” I look down at the floor in front of me, filled with guilt—all over _nothing_! I did nothing—and the white cat did nothing but show me kindness and send me flowers… and yet, something strange flutters in my chest whenever I think about him. There is a short pause, and I can’t bring myself to look up at the strange cat asking all these questions. This is uncomfortable.

“Wonderful!” Arbitro claps his hands. “You’ll be _perfect_. I know what we will do with you—I think. I just need to examine you, to be sure you were telling me the truth, first. Now, remove your boots and stockings, please.”

Why would he need to see my feet? I obey, though I’m surprised by the command, taking off my boots and my stockings.

“Now. That was very good. Are you always this obedient?”

“I was told to do whatever you ask, sir.” I cast my gaze down again.

“Wonderful. Just what I want to hear. So stand up, please, and disrobe.”

My chin jerks up suddenly, but to my dismay, Arbitro does _not_ look like he is joking.

“Didn’t you say you would comply with whatever I asked?”

“Um...”

“Realize, before another word comes from your pretty lips, three things: _First_ , if you disobey, I can and will _force_ you to comply. _Second_ , if I have to force you to obey, I will be _very_ displeased and I will _punish_ you. _Third_ , I will let the _headmaster_ know you were disobedient. I think that would displease _him_ as well.”

A sinking feeling comes over me, and I feel dizzy and nauseated. I don’t want another punishment—especially not from Virus. And I don’t like the looks of this cat either. But I really don’t want to be naked in front of him, either. 

“It’s simply an exam, kitten. I don’t want to hurt you. But I will be forced to if you disobey me.”

A tiny sob squeezes from my throat. _This is humiliating!_ I _hate_ this! But I don’t know what else to do, so I pull myself to my feet and start unbuttoning my waistcoat. 

“Wise decision. Deposit your clothes on the bed, on the left side.” 

I try to mumble, “Yes, sir,” but it isn’t audible over my tears. I really do _not_ want to be whipped again, and gods only know what this cat would do to punish me. I certainly don’t want his hands on me—having the innkeeper strip off my clothes yesterday was bad enough! I put my waistcoat on the side of the bed as ordered, and then move to my shirt. Unbuttoning it, I keep my eyes on my task, ignoring the other cat in the room. 

Perhaps he is a doctor? This might be a medical exam. Is _that_ what this is?

“Ah, you have lovely skin, kitten.”

Okay. So he _isn’t_ a doctor—or if he is, he has a terrible bedside manner. I feel my ears filling with heat when I move to my belt and unbuckle it, but I leave it in my trousers for now. I unzip and unbutton my fly and slide my pants off my hips and am left standing in my underwear, staring at the floor. There is another brief pause.

“Go on, kitten. This is an _exam_. I need to be sure your body—all of it—is healthy.”

I turn toward the bed and strip off my underwear, my tail fluffing out in embarrassment. I don’t hear him approach, but right after depositing that last item of clothing onto the pile, I feel someone breathing down my neck. Is he smelling me? It’s horrible.

Hands skate down my shoulders and back to my hips.

“P-Please, sir,” I whisper.

“You have a gorgeous shape and you smell _delicious_. Exactly what we’ve been looking for, in fact. It seems you have been disobedient, however.” Disgustingly, I feel his hands stroke across my welted skin. “But you heal fast. I saw your hands earlier. Turn around so I can take a closer look.”

My throat is amazingly tight and uncomfortable—and I want to escape more than anything. His hands feel slimy, almost—utterly revolting. A shiver rushes down my spine as he urges me to turn around and face him, but I keep my tail right where it is. He meets my gaze with a creepy smile, and then his hands crawl up to my face, feeling my ears, combing through my fur and ears. Then he caresses down my throat out to my arms. He turns my palms over in his hands—they are much smaller than his. He presses on my palms to make my claws draw, the tiny nubs that are left, anyway.

“Such soft fur, smooth skin—it matches your scent and coloring. And good, he thought to clip your claws already.”

My heart is beating loud in my ears—and I want to run away—every inch of my being is telling me to _get_ _away_ from this man—but I know I will be punished if I don’t obey. The tears I’ve been holding back finally overflow and slip down my cheeks.

“Aw, adorable. Are you frightened? I said I wouldn’t hurt you if you obey, sweet kitten.” The voice is murmured deep in my ear.

My entire body quivers, and he drops my hands to my chest, pushing me toward the bed. I hear an urgent alarm sounding in my brain, and I am really scared now—close to panic.

“I just need to see if you’ve been honest with me. Lie down on the bed, face down.”

Another shudder courses through my body as I scurry to obey crawling up on the mattress, making up for my prior hesitation, but my legs are grabbed. “No, keep your legs hanging off, just like this. This is an _exam_. I told you.”

His hand caresses the dip in my lower back, exploring my butt and the base of my tail, and skating down to my thighs, he pushes them apart.

“Raise yourself up a little, please.”

“P- _Please_ , sir,” I beg again, and a loud sob escapes my throat.

“Oh, are you _weeping_? My dear, this is nothing to be frightened by. What you _should_ be afraid of is when the guest who gave you those flowers comes back to _collect_.”

 _Collect_? Collect on what?

I feel my balls and even my dick being handled a little roughly, and I bristle, raising my torso on the bed. 

“ _Please_ —Ah!” I cry out loud when his hand suddenly pulls away and smacks my ass, right at the crease where my thighs and buttocks meet.

“Submit!”

“Y-Yes, s-sir,” My voice is shaking, my body quivers. I lower my body back to the bed—now shivering with the awareness of exactly how vulnerable I am. “I-I am s-sorry, s-sir.”

“You get delightfully pink, delightfully quickly. Now, take a deep breath for me.” 

I inhale slowly and stutter immediately when I feel his fingers slipping in between my cheeks. A small yelp comes out of my mouth when my lowered tail is pulled up sharply. My body stiffens in surprise, but I can’t do anything to protect myself. Nubs of claws draw against the mattress.

“Submit, kitten. Relax, or it _will_ hurt. If you resist again, I will punish you, and it will be severe.”

“Ah—p-please—d-don’t— _Please_! I c-can't—”

But I can do _nothing_ —I feel his fingers pressing against the rim of that private part of my body, then pushing inside of me, and it _hurts_ —it doesn’t help that my body is tense. He is invading me— _violating_ me—and it is _so_ much worse than being stripped or beaten! What _is_ this? Tears stream from my eyes and I sob quietly. My heart feels like it's being torn from my chest.

“Please, tears from an exam? Don’t be so silly, kitten. I’m not hurting you.” 

I think I hear a small moan and a sigh behind me, and it disgusts me. He presses around inside me, perhaps not even a full knuckle deep before pulling his finger out. My ass is smacked again—and hard—closer to my thighs than my ass—but I don’t resist. I flinch from the sting, but I don’t move my body. I'm too busy thinking about what was just done to me, against my will, against my strength, and what it might mean.

“Hmm. It looks like you have been telling the truth. I’d like you to keep yourself innocent till your debut. And the stripes are lovely, which I will tell your headmaster. He won’t go easy on you. I have no doubt you will make _someone_ quite pleased, as long as you don’t _bite_.”

My tail is brushed again, making my fur fluff out, and I shudder.

“A lucky tail? Really!” I feel a damp touch at the tip—I think he just licked me. Yet another shudder goes through my body, ruffling through my fur. “And so responsive, too. Now—we should time your debut with the season, I think.” 

I feel so dirty when he is finished with me—dirty and violated—and I want to take a shower. But I do not move from the bed, even after he leaves. I won’t until he gives me permission.

“I think we should keep this perfect little tush pink and warm for the next two weeks. Why don’t you stay here for a moment while I speak to your headmaster?”

“S-sir? P-please?” I beg, my voice against the bed, still crying quietly. I freeze in place when I realize what I think he means.

“Just lie there, please. Don’t move, or your punishment will be severe.” 

Arbitro leaves for a few minutes. It feels like an eternity to me—though while I’m relieved he is out of the room, I am very tempted to put my clothes back on. But he told me to stay put! If I disobey, won’t I be punished? Considering everything that was done to me, I was very obedient and compliant, I think. I shouldn't make it worse. I might be able to get out of this without punishment if I obey. So I try to relax and think about the silver cat instead, trying to remember the details of his scent.

Wait... would he do something like this to me? Spank me? Touch me like that? Somehow, him touching me doesn't feel as invasive as Arbitro's exam—if that is what that weird cat meant when he said, "collect."

The door opens again, probably five minutes later.

“I have shared my plans with your headmaster, and he agrees. Now.” I feel a heavy weight on my right side, sitting next to me on the bed. “Let’s do what needed to be done earlier. Climb up onto my lap, kitten.”

Fear rushes through my body. He is going to punish me after all?! Even after I struggled so hard to be submissive!

“B-but I c- _complied_!” I burst out. “I did what you asked! I did _not_ disobey!”

“For the most part, yes. But don’t you want to have a successful debut?”

I can’t answer for my distressed tears. 

“You are weeping so much already—and your tears are certainly beautiful. However, you are about to have an actual reason to cry. Perhaps if you were _publicly_ spanked it would increase your interest.” 

 _Publicly_? What is he even talking about? The thought is humiliating!

“And you dare stare back at me so rudely without complying with my commands! Come here, little brat!” I didn’t even know I was staring until he snaps at me. I was just so surprised by his words, I didn’t know how to respond! 

My body is pulled roughly over his lap, leaving my legs hanging off the side. I immediately swing my arms back, covering my butt with my hands, but they are easily grabbed. I try to kick my legs—I will not submit to this! But he traps my legs within his own. And then I hear a loud smacking sound—much louder than when he spanked me with his hand. 

It raises all the fur on my body before the pain registers. He has definitely _not_ used his hand. I yelp in pain, shivering from it as it courses through my body. And it sounds again—this time, since the nerves are already excited, the pain comes much faster, spreading through my hips and even to the front of my groin. My ears flick back and I try to struggle free.

“ _Submit_ , kitten. This is probably the best training you will get for your new life.”

Smack! The coverage of the implement he is using feels like a paddle, only harder and smaller, and there is no swishing noise before connecting with my skin. I get no warning until the sound and pain register. The pain is severe and harder than the belt, though not quite as biting at first. It builds—getting worse and worse.

I cry out loud when I am swatted on the backs of my thighs, and the intensity that rushes through my body is horrible. It gets hotter and harder—the swats coming faster and faster in a regular rhythm—and I feel my legs and ass bruising and swelling. Tears are rolling down my face and I am close to screaming with every blow.

But I realize—soon enough—that _there is no escape_ from this. I try to relax my arms—then my legs, and then my ass—into the punishment. Flexing my muscles only makes it worse. I am still sobbing loudly as the spanking continues, seemingly endless, but I am relaxed and submissive as I can be, and simply crying out in pain, taking what is given to me.

Eventually, it hurts just as much when he _is_ spanking me as when he _isn’t_ —though the bruises and welts hurt even more when he hits them repeatedly. My thighs and ass are burning—my tail is waving back and forth helplessly, and my ears are flat, my fangs bared.

Finally, the spanks slow—and I receive four more hard swats—smack, smack, smack, smack—to my thighs, my sit spot, my cheeks and my sit spot again. I still have no idea what he used, and I almost don’t want to know. 

Then, I feel a soft touch caressing my burning skin—his fingers? It makes me shiver and I feel sick.

“This is beautiful. Absolute _perfection_. I think they should repeat this treatment on you every few days, but not so much that your ivory skin becomes accustomed to it. Every three or four days should suffice.” 

My gods! _Every three days?_ I can’t do this again! I weep silently at the thought, my tears dripping on the floor. 

“You are very red, now. Why don’t you cool off a little?” He pushes me off his lap and back onto the bed. I can’t even lie on my side because my ass is burning so much, so I stay naked, on my belly. 

“Th-th-thank y-you, s-sir,” I manage, with a disgusting taste in my mouth. I hear a soft sound next to my ear. I open my eyes, and lying beside me, is a large wooden hairbrush. My relaxed ears flatten and bristle at the same time. It was a _brush_?!

“My pleasure, darling, and know that this will _all_ be worth it in the end. We are doing this _for your own good_ —for your future.” My ears are pet and I flinch away from the touch. “So soft and precious—and nearly as pink as your ass!”

He leaves me to cool off—and I need to—I don’t even think about getting dressed for a minute, my chest still heaving with sobs. I’m _miserable_. I don’t know what to do. What the hell am I going to do? I have to get out of this place. They are going to kill me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, basically, after breakfast, Konoe spends some time reading the paper with Virus, training up his conversational skills--all in the hopes of making him more charming. He is brought to the "evaluation room," which weirdly does not have a desk, but it does have a bed and a fully stocked bar.
> 
> Arbitro comes in and introduces himself, asking Konoe all sorts of personal questions about himself, including his prior love life, which has been non-existent. Then, he tells Konoe to strip and threatens him when he, of course, hesitates. He gives Konoe an "exam" on the premise to see if he has been telling the truth, and then leaves, telling him to stay where he is on the bed.
> 
> When he returns, he tells him Virus has agreed with whatever plan he has--it's vague--but Konoe gets the idea that the idea of spanking him is involved. He gets a severe hairbrush spanking--not even knowing what he's done to deserve it--but ends up submitting, just to get it over with.
> 
> He is left there, naked and afraid and sore, to "cool off," as Arbitro suggests.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe gets some time to cool off and Virus fills him in on what’s next. He is sent to his room to recover.
> 
> Triggers: graphic descriptions of post-abuse and trauma.
> 
> Gods, I feel like this is a really, really mean fic! But... the chapter has the redeeming feature of Konoe being reunited with some much-needed support. The question is: will it help?

After getting my tears under control and heaving a few heavy sobs, I am ready to tackle dressing myself. I sit up, wincing because my ass is so damn sore. I never want to look at that hairbrush again, but that horrible man left it beside me on the bed to mock me. It’s a heavy, mahogany thing: expensive and massive, designed for cats with long fur—perhaps like the silver cat, I bet. For just a moment, the thought of pulling the bristles through that long silky fur makes saliva collect on my tongue—much to my utter shock. I’ve just been thrashed with that thing! How could I even _imagine_ such a thought? Shaking my head, I pull on my underwear first—wincing when the fabric touches my skin—and then my undershirt, then slip on the rest of my clothes as quickly as possible.

I look at the window—it’s barred—so there is no escape from this room. But I think I may be able to escape from my window upstairs. I know there is no way I can handle this kind of beating every three days! They can’t expect that from me when I haven’t even done anything to deserve it, can they?

As soon as I’m dressed and I’m putting my shoes on—standing up since it hurts too much to sit—the door swings open and Virus is standing there, hands on his hips. He’s very displeased.

“Ah. You’re dressed. Weren’t you told to lie there and cool down, kitten?” 

“I-i did and, um, I’m cool,” I stammer.

“Well, at this institution, that means _wait_ as you are until you are _excused_. I need to see how your skin looks. We don’t want you damaged. Come back and lie down on the bed.”

“Please,” I start to beg, but my arm is pulled—well, yanked _hard_ —from where I am standing, giving me no choice and raising my anxiety.

“Usually, this kind of disobedience would warrant additional punishment, kitten, but you’re new and you’ve just been through quite an ordeal. I’m sure you don’t want _more_ , do you?”

“N-no, s-sir,” I stammer helplessly, as I’m thrown down on the bed. 

“So, please show me the damage. I’ll treat you as necessary. You are a _valuable_ piece of _property_ now, according to Arbitro, and you will be handled as such.” 

Piece of _property_? The fuck? My fur bristles when I hear that and my hands start to tremble.

“Sir—may I ask—what _exactly_  is my function here?” 

“Why, as you were informed, you will be one of our _entertainers_ , of course. Now hop to it and bare your skin, please, before I change my mind!”

I fumble with my belt and my pants—my fingers feel sticky and refuse to function properly, and the fabric stings as it brushes once more against my bruised skin—but I comply with his order as fast as I can. I’m covered with cold sweat as Virus feels up my ass to “check” the status of my skin. His pressing and pulling on me, not being gentle at all, and I can’t keep quiet. I am _utterly_ humiliated—this is almost as bad as the original punishment. In fact, I hate to admit it, but my shame is almost worse than the pain.

“He used the hairbrush on you? You are nicely bruised. He has the idea we should keep you this pink every few days, but I don’t like to punish our students for no reason. So, if you manage to stay on my good side and not get into any trouble, you won’t have to suffer through this again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I murmur quietly, almost unable to speak for shame.

“I had planned on teaching you dancing today but you’re in terrible shape. So why don’t you head upstairs to your room to rest after your treatment? All right?” 

“Th-thank you, sir,” I whisper.

His treatment means applying some sort of salve to my buttocks and thighs, which he rubs in well, and I wince in pain when he does. Tears squeeze from my eyes when I receive his care, and I _detest_ the attention. As soon as he finishes, he stops, waiting for a while. He is probably waiting to see if I will get dressed on my own without his permission, but I don’t.

Frankly, I’m so exhausted I can barely move, not to mention, I’m afraid.

“Now, Konoe, I should warn you, your value is _only_ as high as your purity and innocence, so _please_ , don’t mess around with any of the other boys. Once they figure out what you are being used for, you will probably gain some unwanted interest, and you will be punished if they succeed.”

Wait. _What_? If _they_ succeed, _I_ will be the one punished? 

“Just keep out of their way and you should be fine. Oh, and this _includes_ Trip. So stay out of his way if you can, too. He’s _notorious_ for putting his hands in the pie before it’s cooled.”

I _really_ hope that Virus doesn’t mean this literally. Revulsion courses through my body, and the nausea I felt during Arbitro’s exam rises in my throat. 

“Please grant me a reply when I speak. It’s rude to just lie there, silent and sullen. You’ll need to be _much_ more charming to win over your pretty silver-haired friend, you know.”

“Yes, sir,” I manage to squeeze out.

“Take the hairbrush with you. Keep it on your dresser—as a reminder for good behavior. I’ll ask you to bring it to me if required for discipline. If the infraction is severe enough, I’ll perform your discipline publicly, to set an example for the other boys. But realize, this _will_ make you a target for the others as well.” 

My ears flatten and I flinch. I can feel my ears and cheeks flushing, just thinking about that. A public hairbrush spanking, as severe as I just suffered? I could never tolerate such abuse! I swallow actual vomit that’s risen to my mouth.

“Do you understand?” 

“Oh, um. Y-yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

He pats my ass again—almost tenderly. It burns.

“Indeed, you are a pretty thing. Stay in your room till the dinner gong.”

“S-sir?” I stammer. 

“What is it now?” A small sigh puffs from his mouth, as though I’m an inconvenience.

“M-May I shower? Please, s-sir?” I am desperate to wash the scent of the other, horrible cat off my body—the feel of that horrid, intrusive exam, his fingers invading my most private parts. Not realizing I’m doing it, I squeeze my thighs together in memory of the horrible act.

“Wait till after dinner. I just applied the healing salve, and it should stay on your skin as long as possible. If you like, you may keep your skin open to the air. The other students have fencing today in the backyard, so you will be undisturbed.”

A small disappointed sob hitches in my throat. 

“I understand.” I remain perfectly still, except for flattening my ears when they are touched and I am unable to keep my tail from lashing.

“Good kitten. You’re getting better at compliance. You’re much more malleable after a solid, physical reprimand, aren’t you?”

I don’t know how to answer, except I’m _sure_ I don’t want to agree. So instead I say, “I am trying my best to please you, sir.”

After another short sigh, which is close enough to my ears to move the fur deep inside, one of them is softly kissed.

“You may dress now and return to your chamber. Keep the brush visible, where it will serve as a reminder for your behavior.” 

“Thank you, sir,” I mutter into the mattress, and I push myself up and quickly pull up my pants. I feel that cold blue gaze on me, even as I dress, even when I don’t look.

I walk from the room, the heavy, detested hairbrush in hand, passing Virus with my face pointed toward the floor, hurrying up the stairs and to my room. It’s empty, thankfully. I toss the brush onto my dresser with a thunk—it makes a solid sound that rings in my ears and raises goosebumps on my skin. The sound makes ears twitch because it’s so loud! Less than half an hour ago, my ass was being _walloped_ with that very item, and now, I have to _look_ at it, spend _time_ with it, and keep it out in plain _view_. Surely, if I hide it, Virus will find out and punish me. It _disgusts_ me to see it! 

A sense of unease bordering on hysteria starts to flood my body, much more slowly than I expect. Throwing open the window, leaving the lace curtains closed, I let in fresh air to ease my panic. I cannot _believe_ I just suffered such humiliation! It almost feels unreal. It makes my skin crawl! The echo of my skin slapping still resounds in my ears, prickling the fur and making it stand on end, and my cheeks burn with shame.

Pouring myself a glass of water from the pitcher, I notice the obvious discomfort of the fabric brushing the surface of my skin. At home in Karou, I never sat around naked or exposed—even when it was hot or if I was sick—and I was utterly _alone_ there. But now, I have no choice. I pull off my boots, unable to even sit down on my bed to do so. Then I carefully strip off my pants and underwear, fearful to look at my reflection over my shoulder in the full-length mirror on the back of the door.

But I can’t avoid it. My skin is usually pale, but just below the hem of my shirt is bright red and swollen. I can’t tear my eyes away—I mean, it’s a _nightmare_! Bruising or “nicely pink” does not _begin_ to describe the damage I see. Fresh tears form in my eyes and temporarily blur my vision, and the pain seems to come alive again when I lift the hem of my shirt. My entire ass—both cheeks, the backs of my thighs—half-way to my knees, in fact—as well as the tender crease where my ass and legs connect—is covered with angry, red splotches. 

Once my vision clears enough for me to take a closer look—and to realize what I am seeing is _real_ and not a dream—the horror starts to sink in. I have actual _blisters_ —raised welts—covering my entire backside. With trembling fingers, I reach behind myself to touch one very gently, and it _burns_! It even feels hot to my fingers—I can feel the heat rising from my skin before I even touch it with my hand. A small yelp comes from my mouth when I actually dare to touch it. 

My _gods_. What is going to happen to me? What am I going to do?

A wave of fresh panic rises in my throat and I feel trapped. I _have_ to escape from this place before they kill me!  

I rush over to the window, remembering the trellis outside—but sure enough, the students are _all_ gathered outside, waiting quietly and watching an instructor I haven’t met. He’s dressed all in black, carrying a long katana, and he has very pale skin, black hair, red eyes, and short black fur. There’s no way I can escape right now. He is facing the building right now—though his attention seems entirely focused on Akira, who does not appreciate it. In any other situation, this would interest me—the attractive, silver-haired cat was kind to me if somewhat aloof yesterday, and yet this instructor seems so intense... but I’m having my own issues right now. 

I am shaking, still—and I force myself to finish my water, trying to calm myself, trying to breathe. I need to think rationally.

While Arbitro ordered the punishment repeated every three days, Virus said he _wouldn’t_ punish me if I didn’t deserve it. So if I can remain calm and obedient, I should be all right. I will be okay. Before I met Arbitro, my day went fine. I return to my desk, carrying my glass, and I look at the bouquet. It still is just as gorgeous and even more fragrant. Maybe the silver cat will visit again. I liked him—I think he is kind—and he was so attractive and he smelled so good. Perhaps he can take me away from here. If I could just send him a letter and tell him what is happening—oh! Maybe I could ask if I might send him a love letter!

Or if I could escape... maybe he could help me?

A shocking glimpse of red reflects in the mirror over my shoulder, catching my eye, and I think I might throw up. I have to get away from my reflection. I bury my nose in the flowers for another moment, just to distract myself, and then flop face down on my bed. I was sure I couldn’t cry anymore today, but soon I burst into tears. My fingertips light on the note from the bouquet in my bed, hidden under my pillow—and it still holds the scent of the silver cat—or maybe only the memory of his scent—and _that_ pushes me over the edge. 

I weep quietly into my pillow until I cry myself to sleep.

* * *

“Konoe.”

A gentle hand brushes through my hair and touches my ear. 

“My gods. Konoe, wake up. It’s almost time for dinner, and you missed lunch.”

"What have they _done_ to him!? What the hell _is_ this?” 

That _voice_ —I _know_ that voice. It doesn’t usually sound so upset—in fact, usually, it sounds cheery and sunny, not like this... dark and angry. But it feels like I haven’t heard it in years.

I open my eyes and see bright blue ones staring back at me, and a mop of orange hair and fur blocking my view.  

“Tokino?” I’m a little hoarse from crying, but I’m _so_ glad to see him! “ _Tokino_! Where have you been? I was worried sick!”

“Ah—I just got started off here on the wrong foot,” he says sheepishly. “But more importantly, what the hell has _happened_ to you? Holy crap, Konoe! Someone beat the shit out of you! Are you all right?”

It takes a few moments to gather my wits, but I barely remember anything when I first wake up. As soon as I feel a cool evening breeze on my burning hot skin—which is obviously bare—however, and Tokino and Aoba are both in the room with me, and neither of them is looking at my face, my memories come flooding back. My ears and cheeks heat up as hot as my ass. 

“Oh, gods— _please_ —don’t—um, please, don’t, um,” I try turning over to hide but that will expose the rest of me, and when I pull my shirt down, I end up hurting my injured skin.

“Take it easy, Konoe,” Tokino says. “It’s all right! Just—try to take it easy!” 

“Gods—was this Arbitro?” Aoba asks. His voice is quiet. “Did he assign you to be an entertainer?” His hand is lifted to his mouth in horror.

“Um, yeah,” I say. I’m surprised he knows, actually.

“Ah—I’m so sorry. I won’t tell anyone. But you can’t let them see this—don’t let _anyone_ see this. You’ll be a sitting duck! When is your debut?”

“The next party, I think.” 

“In less than two weeks?” Aoba asks, amazed.

“Is that bad?” I ask. 

“Um, do you know what it means?” Aoba asks. 

“N-not really,” I stammer. “No one will tell me _anything_! And I was given a horrible, weird, invasive exam today—”

“Oh, yeah—Ah—well,” Aoba looks down. “Don’t worry too much. You have a nice admirer already. He sent you flowers, right? And you, um, _like_ him, right?”

I flush up to my ears.

“He was _kind_ to me,” I say defensively.

“Konoe, liking someone is a _good_ thing,” Aoba says. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. And you’re _really_ lucky if it’s the cat I think it is.”

“ _Lucky_?” 

“He doesn’t play around much, which makes me think he really will be kind to you. And if he’s serious, he _won’t_ let you go to anyone else—at least no one cruel.”

“What are you even _talking_ about? You’re making it sound like Konoe’s going to be auctioned off or something,” Tokino says, teasing lightly. 

"Well, that’s basically the idea. Or at least his virginity will be.” Aoba sounds serious. Much _too_ serious. 

“My [his] _virginity_?!” Tokino and I both exclaim in unison. I sit up, wincing as I do so, but I can’t help myself. This is _crazy_! “They can’t _do_ that! This is a free country and I’m no slave!” I protest.

“Konoe, who is paying your tuition here?” 

“I’m here on scholarship,” I say—then, it feels like something heavy hits my stomach. I shoot Aoba a desperate look. “You can’t mean—”

“You will be paying your _own_ way here, and you’re lucky you’re young and pretty.” 

Again, there’s that word. _Lucky_! _Nothing_ about this is lucky! 

“What the hell? He’s going to be _auctioned_ off—no—his _virginity_ is going to be auctioned off? This is my precious _friend_ , Aoba! And _why_ have they beaten him like this? Konoe—your skin—this looks excruciating—and I heard you were strapped two days ago, too? What is going on?”

A small sob hitches in my throat—I’m parched and on the border of hysteria. Aoba gives me a fresh glass of water.

“Look. This is to keep him under control. Virus and Trip will do _anything_ to crush your will and your spirit, to make you comply, make you think you don’t have a choice, discourage you from running—and if you try to run, my gods, you will make it so much worse for yourself! So please, _promise_ me you won’t!”

I look up at Aoba—and he has a wild look in his eye as if he knows what he is talking about.

“How did you know all this?” 

“I, um, I...” Aoba’s eyes wander from mine for a second before meeting my gaze firmly. “I have first-hand experience with it, Konoe. I am _also_ a charity case here, which is why you are rooming with me. I am _also_ an entertainer. They expect you will be, um, safe with me.” 

“What?” Both Tokino and my ears flatten as we ask in unison. 

“My first sponsor was kind, too,” Aoba says. “My second was a little rougher, so it can vary quite a lot—but if your first experience is good, you will be all right. And if _you_ gained the silver cat’s interest, you’re in luck.” 

“Why?” I ask. 

“He’s _rich_. He has plenty of money to spend on you. You’ve already gained lots of interest. I heard the innkeeper called about you, too.” 

“Bardo did? Why?” I swallow nervously. 

“You caught his interest, as well, as well as some of his clients. It’s a good thing.”

“No, it isn’t!” I protest. “I don’t _want_ to gain ‘interest,’ as you call it!” 

“What you don’t seem to _understand_ , Konoe, is that you don’t have a _choice_ in the matter,” Aoba hisses. “If you disobey, it will be even _worse_ for you. If you try to escape, you will _make_ it worse for yourself.”

“It can’t _get_ worse, Aoba! Don’t you _see_ me?”

“I _do_ , in fact, see you, Konoe, and _believe_ me,  _yes_ , it can!” Aoba says. “It can get _much_ worse, and it will, probably. Imagine, for example, if _Arbitro_ gained significant interest in you.”

My entire body starts to shake and quiver uncontrollably and tears flood my eyes. I get short of breath and my throat closes off—a strange wheezing sound escapes my throat. Arbitro coming back here to see me specifically is a horror I can’t imagine—but him touching me?! Oh, my gods!

“Aoba— _Stop_ —you’re _really_ upsetting him! There’s something really wrong! He can’t _breathe_!” 

“He needs to _understand_ the situation he is in!”

Both Aoba and Tokino sound very far away, and someone is touching my ears, brushing them softly, trying to soothe me, but it doesn’t help. “It will be so much worse if he pisses them off or tries to escape—I mean, _you_ know! _Make_ him understand!” 

“Konoe, just breathe—in through your nose, out through your mouth. I’m right here with you.” I recognize Tokino’s familiar voice and it soothes me—and I obey, breathing slowly as he instructs, his familiar scent calming me. Then he whispers, “I’m by your side and I won’t let them take you. I won’t let _anything_ happen to you. I _promise_.” 

A part of my heart aches when I hear these words because I _know_ he can’t make that promise—I know he can’t _possibly_ keep this promise—but it touches me that he says the words anyway.

“So calm down. Just breathe. You’re _okay_. Everything is all right.” In a quiet whisper, he continues, “I’ll get us out of here yet.”

A foreboding shiver travels down my spine and into my tail—lighting up the welts on my ass and thighs as it shudders through my skin, making my fur stand on end. A small sigh leaking from my mouth in response, and I press my lips together.

“Let’s get you dressed. You need to eat something. Come on. We will help you.”

I feel numb as the two cats help me to dress—and I wince as the clothes touch my raw skin. I can’t even look at Aoba’s pitying face. I know he heard what Tokino said, and he pities us— _both_ of us. I _know_ I don’t have a choice. He is right—this could be much, much worse.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip brings Konoe to Virus' room for "protection" after dinner. Konoe reveals a new talent.
> 
> Trigger warning: non-con nudity, intimidation.

Dinner goes as expected—I eat with the other students, receiving several odd sideways glances, I notice, which is unexpected. I immediately worry that they have heard about my status as an entertainer. If they have, I wonder if I’m in their sights and if they have it out for me.

Also, Trip is oddly hanging around my table as well—and Noiz, the boy who helped me during PE, is sitting with us this evening.

“Where have you been all day?” Noiz asks. “Are you a charity case like Aoba?” He has a strange grin on his face.

“Um, no,” I lie unconvincingly. I see Aoba kicking Noiz under the table.

“What?” Noiz asks Aoba sharply. “You know he will be loads of fun after the first social. He can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants, as long as no one finds out—just like you did, you know?”

“Yeah, and it’s why I have my own room now, too,” Aoba says. “You should stay away from him. The headmaster already has it out for him. Don’t make it worse.”

“I’d _never_ make anything worse. Hell, I’m on your side!” Noiz purrs, looking at me. “I thought you took _great_ notes in class the other day. Such great notes even to my distraction!”

“Noiz, shut up,” Aoba says again. “You were just staring at his ass! You shouldn’t just say everything that comes to mind. He’s brand new, and they are making him appear at the next social, the weekend after next.” 

“Oh, shit,” Noiz says. “Are you really a _virgin_?”

“What the hell kind of conversation is this over dinner?” snaps Tokino, noticing my red cheeks and pink ears. “Give it up! Come on! Give the poor guy a break!”

“I know, but I know he earned himself some kind of beating earlier just from how he’s sitting. I can’t wait until showers tonight! We’ll all be able to see everything!”

I start to feel very nervous. I don’t know what to do. In fact—what am I _supposed_ to do? I look at Aoba, who shrugs his shoulders, and then to Tokino, who’s giving Noiz a death glare. 

“Just—I’ve had a really rough couple of days,” I say quietly. “The school is not what I expected.” 

“Ho? Do I hear complaining?” A low voice rumbles in my ear—it’s Trip hanging over me. He makes all my fur stand on end. I duck my head fearfully and get an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach when I remember Virus’ statement about him putting his fingers in the hopefully proverbial pie.

“Ah—no,” I say. “N-not c-complaining. J-just h-homesick?” It’s both desperate and a lie, but what other choice do I have?

“Finish your dinner already?” Trip looks at my plate, and I’ve eaten about half of my meal so far. “Great. Get up. You’re coming with me.”

“N-no!” I protest anxiously. “I-I c-can’t! _Please_!”

But I can’t resist him, since he yanks me up out of my seat by my arm and pulls me along behind him. 

“You don’t get to refuse. You also need to learn _obedience_ if you’re going to be at the social next week. When a guest invites you to come along with him, your response will be ‘yes, sir,’ or ‘thank you for the invitation, sir,’ and you will comply immediately. None of this resistance I am seeing now.”

“B-but Virus said—”

“Virus _asked_ me to fetch you,” Trip huffs. I’m pulled roughly down the hallway past Virus’ office to a room I’ve never been to before, where Trip knocks.

“Come.” With some relief, I hear Virus’ voice behind the door.

I’m pushed inside the room. It’s opulent, similar to the room in which I was beaten earlier today, only in shades of black, white, and gray. There are a lit fireplace and a sofa, where Virus is currently seated, drinking a glass of red wine, a chair, and a small bar. I look around and see a small desk, dressing table, wardrobe, and a large bed—decked out in fine black sheets in a variety of textures—ranging from fur to silk. The floor is a grey wood, slightly distressed and very clean, with several plush carpets covering the space. The drapes are heavy velvet, darker gray and white chiffon layers. The walls are covered in black and white striped wallpaper.

“Welcome, Konoe. Have a seat, my dear.”

“Sir? Have I done something to displease you?” I ask, rather helplessly.

“Not yet. If you had, I would have had you bring that hairbrush with you.”

“Oh, yes, sir.” I look down at my feet.

“Have a seat. Here, next to me.” Virus pats the couch, the seat next to him.

I hustle over to the couch, quickly taking a seat, looking up at the fire nervously. My ears twitch every time the flame cracks and pops.

“Have a glass.” I’m handed a glass of red wine. I already know I don’t care for the taste, but was told it would be rude to refuse it. So I accept it and take a tiny sip.

“Thank you, sir.”

“That is all, Trip,” Virus says dismissively. Trip gives Virus a strange look, almost jealously. “He’s valuable merchandise. I can’t risk anything happening to him between now and the social. I’m keeping an eye on him.”

Trip slips out of the room and closes the door behind him, leaving me alone with Virus. I’m very nervous being left alone with Virus, though I’d be more nervous alone with Trip.

“Just relax,” Virus says. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just didn’t like how those other students were talking to you. I didn’t think they’d leave you alone. So for now, you’re safer here with me than being cornered in the showers, don’t you think?”

“Of course, sir. I would like to bathe, though.” I am _dying_ to bathe—to get the feeling of that other cat’s hands and scent off of me.

“You may use my private chamber for that. But I thought I’d train you a little further first. Do you know what will be expected of you—once you are alone with whoever purchases you for the night during the social?”

“Um, sir? I assume good conversation and obedience?” I take a guess. 

“In theory, you’re correct, but it involves taking off your clothes, which you have a history of reluctance doing. So I thought getting you some practice might help. It’s possible that whoever buys you will strip you himself, but sometimes your buyer might want to watch you remove your own clothing, willingly. If that’s the case, do you think you can obey—in that regard?”

I think for a moment. If it were the silver cat, and he asked with that silky soft voice of his, I think I wouldn’t be able to refuse. But if it were someone else, I would indeed have a hard time.

“As I expected,” Virus says. “So finish your wine and then strip for me.”

I finish the wine, choking it down. I find the taste less unpleasant than the last time I had it. This is probably because of what is coming next. The prospect of taking off my clothes in front of Virus—again—is very intimidating. I’ve done it before—lowered my pants for a punishment—but I’m filled with shame and can feel heat rising in my cheek and my ears already. And damn, I should have taken more time with the wine.

Looking up just briefly, confirming he is watching—and he is, over the rim of his glasses and the top of his wine glass—I lower my eyes in mortification and slip off my boots and socks.

“Sir? Where shall I put my clothes?”

“Oh—in a neat pile on the chair over there.”

He indicates a chair across from me, so I will have to stand up. I do stand up, but I put my boots on the floor in front of the chair, simply folding the socks and putting them in the pile. Taking a deep breath, I unbutton my vest and slip it off, fold it in half and add it to the pile. Then, I remove my belt, and add it to the pile as well. With trembling fingers, I fumble with the buttons on my trousers, and slide them off my hips, not once looking up at Virus. I fold the trousers neatly and add them to the chair as well. I untie my tie, draping it over my trousers, and then unbutton my collar and shirt sleeves, then work open the buttons my shirt. I pause for a moment once my shirt is off, standing in my undershirt and underwear, my face blushing, my tail drooping, my ears lowered in shame, and I peek up at Virus.

“Very good so far. Keep going, please.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, I strip off my undershirt overhead, leaving it on top of my pile of clothes and then I turn around to slip off my underwear. Virus makes a small gasp when I slip out of my underwear. 

“I’d quite forgotten Arbitro paid you a visit today. You are quite a mess back there, poor kitten. I’ll see to your treatment after your shower. But first, come see me—just as you are.”

I freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do. I’m standing only six feet from Virus now. If I disobey, I’m sure to earn myself additional punishment. But I don’t want him to touch me!

“Why do you hesitate? Do you think I won’t punish your disobedience if you delay? I said, come here? I’ll have you fetch your hairbrush in the nude!”

The thought fills me with horror and my feet move on their own. I walk over to were Virus is sitting, standing before him—letting my fluffed up tail wave in front of my private parts.

“You are a gorgeous creature, Konoe. I am considering displaying you nude for your debut.”

A small gasp comes out of my mouth.

“Please—don’t!” I beg desperately.

“I think you’d fetch more for your opening price this way.”

“Please—I will learn a skill! I will do anything! Please—just let me try!”

“But you look gorgeous just like this, as you are—really at your finest. Perhaps with a collar? Let our customers’ imagination run wild with what they might do with you—a feral kitten as yourself.”

“Please! Anything else but that! I will learn to dance or sing! A-at home, I-i w-would often s-sing.”

“Sing? Well, you can sing for me, perhaps, and that _might_ change my mind.”

“It’s a special kind of song,” I try to explain. “I would sing when I would get hurt or when I was afraid or lonely—songs to express an emotion or need—I haven’t done it here or in some time, but I will learn how again.”

“Really?” Virus looks interested, though he is petting my tail rather fondly—right at my hips. It’s intimidating. He’s frightening me. “You won’t sing for me right now?”

“I-in the sh-shower,” I say, trying to pull away. “Where is your bathing chamber?” 

“Just through the mirrored door,” Virus says.

The full-length mirror is actually a door, much to my surprise. My reflection shocks me—I look exactly like a whore! With my fur fluffed out on my tail and ears, my skin flushed, my pupils dilated in fear, those things together make me look full of desire. I barely recognize myself.

I push the door open—and I hear Virus say, “Leave it open, please. I’d like to hear you.”

Now I have to see if I can figure out how to sing. The bathing room is lovely—a smaller but more elaborate version of the boys’ room upstairs. I rinse myself off in the shower, washing my hair, condition it, and soap up my body, wincing when the soap touches my ass or my thighs. I can see my reflection everywhere—there are mirrors on all the walls. It’s a little disgusting, I think. I can see marks from the hairbrush on my ass—bruises and welts—and it’s awful.

I feel helpless. As I try to process my feelings—the only thing that comes to mind is helplessness. Well, other than anger. And a small light ignites in my chest. If the silver cat were here, I would sing to him. I’d sing, “Help me—save me—get me out of here. I’d give my life to you if you would get me out of here.”

And that is the song the spills from my body. It is a song without words, and it doesn’t come out of my mouth. It comes from my body, vibrating in my bones, my flesh, across my skin. As I’m rinsing the soap from my skin, conditioner from my hair, the room glows with a familiar soft warm light—helpless, hopeless, and angry—my song floats in the air.

And I see Virus standing at the door, and his eyes light up, mouth gaping. He simply watches me sing for some time—till my song is done and has sapped all my energy, which it often does, leaving me helpless on the floor of the shower. Good thing I wasn’t singing in the bath, since I might drown in there! 

“Oh, my gods,” Virus says, rushing in and helping me up, in awe. “You, little kitten, are a Sanga!”

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virus and Trip are thrilled to find Konoe is a Sanga. They can't keep their excitement to themselves and things get a little out of control.
> 
> Summary in end notes.
> 
> Trigger warnings: forced grooming, violence, abuse, spanking, non-con groping, non-con touching, edging, bad first-time experience, rape, tail sex.

Virus’ excitement about this discovery—him calling me a Sanga is a surprise. I’ve been able to sing since I was a child, and it’s exhausting. But I’ve always thought all Ribika could do this, so I’ve never thought it was anything special. 

He has come into the shower, getting his clothing soaked, and his demeanor has changed completely. He actually has softened his facial expression, which is something that rarely changes, and Trip enters the room as well.

“Why didn’t you say something before?” He presses. “You could have saved yourself a world of hurt!”

Wait a minute! Is he saying he _wouldn’t_ have belted me or punished me or sent me to Arbitro for that “evaluation” if he’d known I could sing like that? I find myself growling softly.

“Gods, are you _growling_ at me? Put those fangs away, kitten, if you know what’s good for you!” Virus says calmly. “I said you _could_ have saved yourself some trouble. But if you don’t behave yourself now, I will personally fetch that hairbrush from upstairs and we can continue the discipline session from earlier.”

“Was that _him_ singing? I could hear him in the hallway! My gods!” Trip is saying. They are both helping me from the shower, and I wish I had something to cover me. I don’t like Trip’s hands wandering all over my body, even as he is pretending to dry me off. 

“It was. We have a real gem on our hands! Do you know how much the bounty hunter will pay for him now—and perhaps even permanently!? I’ve heard a Sanga is worth even more to the Touga if he is untouched. And now, we have to be even more careful with him. It’s got something to do with bonding, I think. The first Touga to bond with a Sanga has a chance of bonding permanently and creating a very powerful pairing. Even the fencing instructor may help increase his price by bidding against him.” 

“How do we prepare him?” Trip asks. 

My ears are pressed flat against my skull, and I am trying to hold my tail in front of my body for modesty—andI am very afraid, listening to this excited discussion about me and my worth as an auction item as I am brought over to the bed. My tail is soon moved unceremoniously from its secure place to be dried off with a towel roughly, leaving me feeling exposed and naked.

“Manners, dancing, etiquette—and we need it _fast_ ,” Virus is listing off items on his hands. “I want a stylist as well, and the best we can afford. Tomorrow is when those lessons have to start!” He glances at me. “Kitten, I know you’re tired, but your posture is consistently _terrible_! You are a complete disgrace! At least get up on your knees!”

“Sir, I can’t after I sing,” I try to explain, holding back tears, my ears drooping. “I lose my ability to function and become paralyzed. It’s always been this way. It’s why I don’t sing very often.” 

“Wait— _completely_ paralyzed?” Trip asks, and he stops combing my hair for a minute and grabs my wrist. An unbelievably creepy sensation crawls up my arm. He lifts my arm up from the bed and lets it drop heavily. I can’t control it, so gravity pulls it back down to the bed. My ears twitch and my tail waves nervously—the only parts of me I can move. “Oh, _my_.” 

“Just like Sleeping Beauty or Snow White,” Virus says, touching his chin thoughtfully. “How long does this last?”  
  
“I don’t really know, sir. I think it depends on the length of my song,” I say, wishing so much I could crawl away and hide.

“This could be quite a selling point. Maybe we don’t have him practice much, and have him sing just before or during the auction. This will make him more subdued and relaxed for the evening. It will keep him from injuring the client unnecessarily. Let’s see how he does the next few days,” Virus suggests, his hand crawling up my thigh. “He will be safe in here with me tonight. I’d like to see how long the Sleeping Beauty effect lasts. Brush out his hair and his fur, cover him up, and leave him. I’ll get those letters sent tonight so we will have the appropriate staff to start his training tomorrow.”

“Fine, but I don’t trust you with him,” Trip replies, and I’m nervous seeing him with a hairbrush anywhere near my body. “Tch! Stop this flinching! I’ll give you something to be afraid of!”

“He’s flinching?” Virus asks, watching me carefully. “Huh. I thought you couldn’t move. It’s mostly your eyes, ears, and tail more than anything, though, isn’t it?”

“I think my body can move reflexively, sir,” I say quietly. I am _terrified_ of that hairbrush.

“He’s just brushing out your fur and your hair, which is quite lovely this length. I’d like to see it grow a bit longer. I wonder if the stylist can straighten it or give you some extensions. It would be even lovelier. Your fur is plush and full, and you need to groom it when it’s wet, don’t you? Won’t it mat if you don’t?”

“Um, yes, sir,” I say timidly.

“Then, unless you want me to lick you, let Trip use the brush,” Virus suggests.

“I wouldn’t mind using my tongue and my claws,” Trip says slyly.

“Either way. Just make sure it doesn’t mat,” Virus says, apathetically, looking down at the papers on his desk. He starts writing letters.

“Um— _please_ —use the brush, _please_!” I beg. But I’m too late.

Trip is hovering his large body above mine on the bed—and I am still naked from the shower. I feel his hand tilting my head just so, so he can reach my ears, and then I feel his tongue taking long, grooming strokes across the fur on my ears. It feels disgusting and intrusive—I _hate_ it! But strangely, it also sends shivers down my spine. I don’t remember feeling like this before—except the one time that silver cat—Rai—licked my ear. And I liked that. But this is horrible!

“Please!” I beg. “Please, won’t you use the brush?”

He lowers his body—which is still fully dressed, but his clothes are cold and wet from pulling me out of the shower—onto mine, which is dry and trying to get warm, and I shiver with revulsion. And he is getting Virus’ bed wet!

“Please—you’re getting me wet again!”

Virus looks up from his work.

“Trip! If you’re going to do that, please refrain from soaking my sheets,” he says calmly. I assume this means Trip will stop and use the brush, but instead, he smiles as he moves away from me and starts stripping off his clothes.

“Of course,” he says, showing me his fangs. I unsuccessfully try to cower away from him, and a small whimper escapes my lips.

“Please—just—I’m tired,” I whine softly. “I just really want to rest.”

“I know, kitten. At the social, you will be required to _entertain_ the cat who purchases you, even after you sing. So you might as well get used to it now.”

Trip is now naked and continues grooming my ears, pressing his body against mine—and it’s even more uncomfortable and intimidating. I am very afraid—even with (or maybe even because) Virus is in the same room since he isn’t saying anything. Trip's hands wander over my helpless, paralyzed body, and I can only growl.

“Konoe, don’t growl. It’s unseemly. If I hear you growl again, I won’t hesitate to punish you. I’d make you go upstairs and get the hairbrush yourself, but you are unable to move in your current state.”

“B-but I can’t even defend myself!” I implore him.

“That’s what makes you so irresistible,” Trip says quietly.

It turns out that biting the inside of my cheek won’t suppress my growl and a tiny one leaks out again.

“Ah. What did I _just_ say?” Virus says, looking over at the bed. “Trip, I’m going to have to interrupt your grooming. And what the hell? His ears and hair are _fine_. You should move to his tail anyway. Put on some dry clothes while I fetch the brush from upstairs. Kitten, you should feel fortunate it’s so late, or I would make a spectacle of your discipline session. Your fellow students are already getting ready for bed. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Wait! Please! I-I couldn’t help it!” I beg.

“Begging is often adorable, kitten. But not when you are trying to get out of a punishment. Save it for when the punishment actually begins, sweetheart.”

A nauseated feeling comes over me—since my ass is still awfully bruised from Arbitro’s treatment. I don’t think I can take anymore! 

Plus, Trip is now dressed in a robe and loungewear, which he has pulled from Virus’ closet—he is a much larger cat than Virus, and I am surprised he has clothes that fit him in here. I wonder if they are a couple. Then he approaches me on the bed again, where I am weeping silently.

“No one has even touched you yet, and you are already crying? So sensitive!”

“I am still so sore from this morning!” I burst out. “Please! Don’t let him do this! I was only frightened and trying to protect myself!”

“Kitten—little Sanga—here’s the thing,” Trip purrs softly, kindly and gently stroking my chin, more familiarly than I would like, caressing my throat and chest. “Your body is no longer your own. You now belong to this school, and you will do as we command. If we tell you to submit to a particular cat, you will do so. In fact, right now, you can’t defend yourself—so why growl about it? You’re only expressing your displeasure, right? An empty threat does nothing! You couldn’t defend yourself from me, even if I were to take everything I wanted from you. Am I right?”

I look up at him fearfully, tears in my eyes. Is he threatening me? I nod.

“You need to _realize_ it and accept it. You _belong_ to this school. Your body, your pleasure, all of it, belongs to this school. In fact—perhaps that might be a good lesson to teach you as well. I’ll ask Virus when he returns. Maybe we can work it in with your punishment.”

My body is roughly turned over on the bed.

“Oh, look at this! You are still incredibly raw! This is certainly going to hurt.” I whimper when I feel Trip's fingers tracing the bruises on my thighs and bottom.

“Please! Can’t you _please_ —?” 

“Stop now. Didn’t you hear me?” Trip grabs my tail and starts grooming it, and it has the strangest effect on me. My fur bristles at once—perhaps because of the blood pooled by my injured skin. The touch of his rough tongue on my tail feels _really_ good. And a small, pleasured sigh escapes my mouth before I can bite it back. I feel my ears filling with blood, and I am _so_ ashamed.

“I see. This feels good, doesn’t it? Are you one of those kittens who is so inexperienced and starved for touch that he is sensitive pretty much anywhere?” My tail is given a soft tug and it's licked again. I can’t help it—it feels so good, and my dick stiffens. A small moan escapes my lips. “Interesting! You are going to be so much fun!”

To my shock, I feel Trip’s hand right at the base of my tail, rubbing my fur backward, and it spreads out across my ass, his fingertips deliberately caressing my entrance. I still don’t have movement restored, but the touch makes me reflexively arch my back. 

“Ah—what’s this now? Does that feel nice?”

I'm embarrassed! I don't want it to feel nice! But another series of strange, embarrassing sounds escape. I want to cover my mouth with my hands and I can’t—they are stretched out to my sides, the way I have been posed on the bed. I am so frustrated, and I try to wave my tail around, try to free it from his grasp, but his touch really does feel nice.

“Just relax, kitten. I am trying to _care_ for you,” he whispers. "I have your best interest at heart." And then, his tongue begins to groom me in earnest, taking longer and longer licks, lots of saliva, from the base of my tail going out toward the sensitive crooked tip. He continues massaging me at the base of my tail and letting his fingers tickle just below my tail. A strange fluttering sensation attacks my stomach, and my dick gets harder and harder. I can feel myself dripping into the sheets. My face is blushing and my ears are hot, and I know they are pink.  
  
I also know that Virus is going to open the door any minute and show up with the implement to punish me, and I don’t want to be punished when I am feeling like this. I can’t even imagine what that might be like! Even thinking about it makes my dick harder, and that is even more disturbing— 

The door creaks open, and I can’t see him, but I can smell him. Trip doesn’t stop what he is doing, and I can’t stop the sounds coming from me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Virus’ voice is as cold as ice. 

“I’m just grooming his tail,” Trip says neutrally, in between licks. He has nearly reached the crooked part of my tail—my most sensitive part. My toes twitch, and my back arches a little more. His fingers do something a little more than _tickle_ my entrance—they _brush_ it deliberately.

I know that males can have sex that way—but I _fear_ it. I have never excited myself in that area nor touched myself there except for washing. But for some reason, his gentle touch is arousing me in a strange, strong way I cannot describe. I am purring and sighing and moaning softly, and I cannot suppress the sounds I am making, and I cannot get the thought of the silver cat out of my head. What if he were doing this to me? And I am _so_ ashamed!

“Please—stop!” I beg again.

“What? You are going to tell me you _dislike_ it?” Trip asks doubtfully. “It certainly doesn’t _sound_ like you dislike it. And it doesn’t _feel_ as though you dislike it. Virus, I haven’t even touched him and _look_!”

My body is suddenly rolled to the side, exposing my hard, dripping cock, and shameful tears spill down my face.

“Please!” I beg softly, now crying in earnest. I have never felt so humiliated—well, possibly only with Arbitro. But I am just so helpless, and my body is just responding all on its own and I can't move or defend myself.

“I’ve only just been grooming his tail and perhaps stroking him softly. He’s _very_ responsive. I had an idea about his punishment, you see. Perhaps this would be the perfect time to teach him that his body isn’t his own.”

I’m rolled back to my stomach, and I’m somewhat relieved, but Trip keeps his hand moving on my tail.

“I’m s-sorry,” I plead, panting vulgarly. “I-I know I m-must obey you. I-I am s-sorry for g-growling!” My hips feel very heavy, and a loud moan escapes my mouth when Trip reaches the tip of my tail. I fail to bite it back.

“Kitten, do you enjoy having your tail groomed so very much? How delightful,” Virus says. “Trip, why don’t you move up just a bit? You can keep grooming, but move your hand, please.”

I feel the fluttering fingers move away from my behind and the base of my tail. It’s both a relief and also a slight disappointment, and then my ears flatten when something cold and solid presses against me right where his hands were. Trip is still sucking on the tip of my tail, and my dick is still just as hard and dripping, my abdomen clenches painfully.

“Konoe, you need to realize you belong to us now, and you will do exactly as we say. This is going to be painful. When we ask you to attend or entertain a client, you will not growl at him, but you will obey him. Growling is _unseemly_. He may wish to touch you and do things to you that you will not like, or that you may find them painful or excruciating. But it’s your job to submit. And not just submit—but to submit willingly.”

“B-but please—” I beg, my body starts to shiver uncontrollably. I can’t take another punishment today.

“I see your skin is terribly welted, and I don’t want to cause you permanent damage, kitten. But I do want you to understand what we are trying to teach you. Tonight, we are going to teach you how to submit _willingly_ to even painful stimuli. All right? Your job is to relax—as you already are—and submit. Take a deep breath. Trust that I would never damage precious merchandise.”

Virus’ claws comb through the fur on my ears, the other is holding that horrible hairbrush against my ass. Trip is sucking on the tip of my tail and running his claws through the fur of my tail. I am trying not to gasp or sigh, and I am afraid. I feel Virus’ presence disappear from my body for a moment, and I squeeze my eyes close.

“Please!” I cry. 

Smack! It isn’t a hard smack, but it is definitely painful against my already bruised skin. The pain registers instantly and I cry out in a lewd-sounding sob. But in addition to the pain, a heavy sensation pools in my hips. It’s as if the blow has caused additional blood to rush to my groin, which is already racing with activity.

“Understand that you may never, _ever_ growl at client, kitten,” Virus whispers.

Smack! This blow is softer than the first, and it is less painful. It was aimed directly at the spot where my ass and thighs meet, and a strong, tingling sensation shivers up into my spine and tail, which Trip is sucking roughly. Instead of a pained cry, the cry that comes from my mouth is more of a moan.

“You must learn to obey us in all things. We have your best interests at heart, kitten, and we will make you a success.”

Smack!

The third spank of the brush hits my thighs—this one is quite painful against the welted skin, but once the pain disperses, again, that strange tingling sensation shivers through my body and up my back, pooling in my groin. My dick is rock hard. And I am utterly confused. What is happening to me?!

“Even your body belongs to us now, kitten. When we punish you, we may sometimes reward you for your obedience when you perform to our satisfaction or on a whim.”

Smack!

Another firm spank to my sit spot—and I cry out lewdly—and I cannot help myself. I can’t stand the strange mix of pain and arousal. My tail is still being roughly stimulated, and I feel like I can’t take anymore.

“Please—I think—please, I can’t help it— _please_ ,” I am begging, softly, almost in a whisper against the mattress.

“Are you getting close?” Trip asks, growling softly. “Don’t come without permission.”

I shiver in fear—another emotion added to the mix of confusion, pleasure, arousal, and pain.

Smack!

My ass jiggles and this blow one rubs my cock against the mattress delightfully, making me moan in pleasure. My back arches, also making me present myself—even though my movement hasn't returned.

“Please—may I…?” I beg softly. I’m so afraid. What if I accidentally come without permission? What would they do to me then? How would I be punished?

Smack-smack-smack-smack!

I scream in agony—real agony—but also in pleasure and surprise—when the rapid succession of blows rains down on my ass, sit spot, and the insides of my thighs. Right after the brush hits me, I feel Virus’ hand rubbing me, hard, and a strange sound escapes my mouth—it is a moan mixed with pleading cries. I’m begging “please, please, please,” over and over.

The blows really sting on my welted skin, even if they weren’t very hard—and even touching my skin hurts, but pressing my body down against the bed has the effect of rubbing my cock against the mattress, and that feels so good I can hardly stand it. And at the same time, someone’s hand is at the base of my tail again, brushing over my entrance, making my stomach do little flips, and Trip is now nipping the sensitive tip of my tail, making me gasp.

Finally, I hear Virus say, “Go ahead, kitten.”

I think he says something else, too, perhaps about it not being humane to torture me forever, at least not tonight—but my mind blanches white, and I gasp and moan and my body explodes in pleasure. It gives a strange jerk, lifting off the bed—and I feel myself spilling into the sheets and onto my stomach. Pleasure and relief spill into my body the same way—from the center of my body into my limbs, my tail, even my ears.

My heart is pounding in my ears, and I feel such relief and so exhausted that fresh tears spill down my face. A strange sound like “ahhh” comes out of my mouth, and I relax into the bed, feeling soft and malleable, as though I'm part of the mattress itself. 

“Huh,” Trip says. “That was pretty damn sexy. I’ve never seen a cat who could come from having his tail licked.”

“Me either. Especially not while getting spanked,” Virus says. “I wonder if we want to display him a little less innocent than I originally planned.” 

My mind is hazy, and I’m not really paying attention when my body is turned over. I think I am being cleaned up, but I am so tired I’m not really aware of anything, not even my shame.

“We could have him sing, sure. But perhaps we could show off this tail sex talent of his during the auction?” Virus is saying. “Perhaps we could have another student up there with him—I’m thinking Aoba, perhaps. We don’t need to take him all the way, of course, since we want him hot and hard—except…”

“What?” Trip asks.

“Well, if I’m not mistaken, didn’t we decide the date of the next social because of the timing?”

“What about the timing?” Trip asks.

“I think it’s close to the season. He may go into heat. That would be perfect. He will smell even more enticing—and even if he did, you know, pop off in front of everyone, it wouldn’t be a big deal. He could just do it again. Probably right away. He’s young, after all. Once isn’t going to be enough. Today he’s exhausted. But he’s young.”

“Ah. I see. I’m just distracted imagining him up there with Aoba. That would be pretty hot, I think. He just looks like such an innocent thing—until you get him going, and then he’s not so innocent at all.”

“I know, right? I wonder how we dress him? Or if we dress him at all?”

My fur bristles when I realize I’m being spoken of this way. I dislike it immensely. I don’t know what to think. But I’m so exhausted, there’s nothing I can do anyway.

I’m cuddled up naked in a blanket on Virus’ bed, and I go to sleep while Virus continues writing his letters. I am asleep by the time Virus climbs into bed with me. I don’t notice him cuddling up next to me and grooming my ears gently before he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trip and Virus are thrilled Konoe is a Sanga. They help him out of the shower, and while Trip is drying him off, Virus makes plans. He implies that if Konoe had sung before now, he could have saved himself some trouble, which irritates Konoe quite a bit.
> 
> Trip starts grooming Konoe instead of combing out his fur with a brush, and he takes off his clothes since they got wet in the shower. Konoe is intimidated and growls at him, and Virus warns him not to growl--it's unseemly--but Konoe is still frightened and growls again, accidentally. Virus goes to get the brush while Trip grooms his tail--which really excite little Konoe, much to his disappointment.
> 
> By the time Virus gets back, Konoe is in quite a state of arousal. So instead of a simple punishment, Virus and Trip edge him, and spank him with the hairbrush as well, adding to his humiliation, shame, confusion and arousal. All very non-con and horrible for Konoe. But he is eventually allowed to come. Then as he drifts off to sleep, he hears Trip and Virus talk about how they want to display him, possibly with Aoba. He is disturbed, but he ends up sleeping from utter exhaustion anyway.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe wakes a little bit grumpy and feeling privileged--in Virus' room. After failing miserably at serving Virus breakfast, he digs in his heels and brats it out with Virus, earning himself a serious attitude adjustment. Virus and Trip teach him what life is like at the school for students who don't submit to their rules.
> 
> Konoe repents right away, but it's too late for this little kitten. He's in for a very hard day and a rather eye-opening experience.
> 
> This is a long, painful, harrowing chapter, not for the faint of heart. Chapter summary at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Trigger warning: abuse, violence, non-con restraint, non-con drug administration, non-con nudity, non-con touching, non-con oral sex. This is not a fun day for Konoe.

The next morning starts earlier than I'd prefer and I wake a little grumpy. Virus insists on dressing me in a silk robe instead of my uniform, which feels strange against my skin. At least I’m wearing underwear underneath it, I suppose, but my feet are bare and I feel vulnerable. Also, he demands that I eat breakfast in his room rather than with the other students, which makes me nervous.

“It’s part of your training, Konoe. I will be teaching you how to serve the food. Please pay attention. There will be consequences if you don’t listen. You don’t have much time to learn, so this is important.” 

My ears twitch when he says “consequences,” of course, and my tail flicks around nervously. I understand exactly what he means, but I thought he said I was special since I could sing, so I don't understand why I have to do this.

He has me spread his napkin in his lap—and he is also wearing a robe. I really am not interested in him in that way. He shows me several times—whacking my knuckles with the handle of the butter knife when I don’t do it the way he wants me to. It is painful, but not nearly as painful as I expect "punishment" to be, quite frankly. So while I pay attention, I probably do not pay as much attention as he thinks I should. In fact, I start to find his instructions annoying when he complains about how I butter his toast. He catches me rolling my eyes at him when he makes me prepare him another piece of toast. I guess I didn’t spread the butter well enough?

“Konoe—you may think this is a joke, but it isn’t. Learning etiquette and manners is an essential part of your training and adds to your value here. I hope you don’t think you’re immune from corporal correction just because you can sing. You can sing just as easily whipped. Although, I think certain clientele will find slightly reddened cheeks more attractive. It will give them an idea of what they might do to you in the bedroom—how they might subjugate you and torture you. So I would suggest for the sake of your own _survival_ that you pay a little bit closer attention. I won’t remind you again.” 

I find his lecture extremely annoying. I’m not sure what has come over me, but I’m really not interested in hearing it. I might even click my tongue in response. 

“Your expression and that sound—that is _not_ submissive at _all_ , kitten.” Virus puts down his knife and fork with a soft clink. Of _course_ , it isn’t. I am not _interested_ in submitting. “Go upstairs to your bedroom and fetch your hairbrush, please. You have two minutes.”

I sigh heavily and stand up from the table. I'm very glad to get _out_ of here.

“If you take longer than two minutes, you will be very, _very_ sorry,” Virus warns.

I stomp out of the room. I do, in fact, head upstairs to my room. It’s deserted. The other students are at breakfast right now, I guess. But instead of fetching that nasty hairbrush, which is waiting murderously on my dresser, I spend some time admiring the lovely vase of flowers on my vanity. It’s still really gorgeous and fragrant. I bury my nose in it, and then I remember the note.

I look under my pillow and it’s still there. Looking at the elegant script, I hold it up to my nose. I can’t smell the silver cat’s scent on it anymore, but I can still remember the clean, fresh scent, and also how he licked my ear and kissed my hand. I sit down on my bed, close my eyes, bury my nose in the notecard, and relax when Trip bursts into my room.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

His low voice growls loudly and scares the shit out of me. All my fur bristles and my fangs bare. I also reflexively draw my claws.

“What’s this then?” He snatches the note from my hand.

“Give it back! It’s mine!” Really—it’s the _only_ thing I own here, the _only_ thing I value, and I hate to see another cat even touching that note—especially _him_!

“Ah, it's from the silver cat. How sweet. Unfortunately, you’ve been caught in the act of _deliberate_ _defiance_ , kitten, which is bad for you, but good for me. So, now you get to see what happens to students when they don’t follow the rules. Come with me.”

“Get your hands off me!” I yell, but he grabs my ear, and it _hurts_. I have to stand up, and he throws the note carelessly on the floor. I also happen to see him take the hairbrush from the dresser. 

“Bring it with, as Virus told you to do.” He pushes it into my hands, but I refuse to take it from him.

“No!” I growl. I’ve been humiliated enough! The last thing I want to do is fetch the implement for my punishment myself. To my surprise, the hand pinching my ear lightens for a moment, and Trip crouches down a little, leveling his face with mine. 

“Oh, are you in for it now, kitten! You’ve _no_ idea what you’ve got coming to you. If you want to make it worse, _I_ can carry the brush. But I suggest you take it yourself. What’s it going to be? This is your last chance.”

“Hell no,” I growl again. I look down, refusing to meet his eyes—and also forgetting that I am not in my uniform. That brush comes down hard on the backs of my thighs—through the thin silk of the robe I am wearing—and makes a loud smacking sound. It nearly makes my knees buckle it hurts so much! I cry out loud—my skin is still sore from yesterday, and I am shocked he hit me right here.

“Now will you take it?” 

“Fuck no!” I yell, angry as hell.

Smack! Even harder, Trip spanks me again—I am standing up, so he catches my thighs and my ass in one blow while still pinching my ear, and I scream in pain.

“Ah! Fuck!”

“That language is unseemly for an Applebaum student and will earn you extra,” Trip says, low and quiet in my ear. “Are you ready to carry the hairbrush on your own?”

Tears have spilled from my eyes and I am sobbing now, trying to catch my breath and get him to let go of me. This is unreal, and I can't do this.

“Y-yes,” I say quietly, defeated. I hold out my hands, which are trembling, and I take the hairbrush, completely humiliated.

“Good boy,” Trip says. “I was spanking you pretty hard, but it can get worse. Now come along.” He continues to drag me by my ear, out of my room and down the hall, and I nearly fall down the stairs. 

“Please!” I beg. “My ear— _please_!”

“You have earned this,” Trip says. “Delayed obedience is disobedience. Virus said two minutes, and you took more than twice that time. When I came in, you were nowhere _near_ obeying his instructions. Today, we are going to teach you what happens when you don’t submit.”

Once we reach the lobby, my ear finally released, and my hand goes up to rub it immediately. But I don't get a chance to rest. I’m pushed through a small door off the side of the stairs—which brings me to another set of steep stairs leading up that I’ve never seen before.

“Go,” Trip commands.

I head up the three flights of stairs and through a door into a small room—it’s awfully damp and chilly—no natural light except for a few cracks close to the ceiling. I realize this is the turret that can be seen at the front of the building.

“What is this place?” I ask. It's creepy in here and I shiver.

“It’s not for you to ask but for you to learn,” Virus says quietly. He's been waiting. “And for us to teach. You will not survive as an entertainer if you click your tongue and roll your eyes at your first client—even if it _is_ that indulgent silver cat. Not even he will put up with your bullshit. And I’m going to show you what happens when you refuse to submit. Today will be an unpleasant day for you, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s probably a good idea to teach you what will be expected of you anyway.”

My heart starts racing in my chest, and it feels like it will pound right out of my mouth. 

“Kneel,” Virus says.

“What are you going to do to me?” The words spill out from my lips and my body won’t move or obey. I’m frozen with fear—forget fight or flight!

“I just told you. We are going to force your submission. I also just told you to kneel.”

The hairbrush is taken from my hands and Virus smacks my ass—and it _hurts!_ I scream in response to the pain—but I still can’t seem to obey.

“What seems to be the problem, kitten?”

“I-I’m afraid!” I cry. “P-please—d-don’t h-hurt me!”

My thighs are smacked with that brush again—hard—and my knees squeeze together in an attempt to keep the pain from creeping down any lower. It hurts so much!

“Kneel, and you won’t be spanked anymore. Just _submit_ , kitten,” Virus says, his voice calm and gentle. He pushes my shoulders and Trip pushes the backs of my knees, and I fall into a kneeling position. “That’s not so bad, is it?” 

Tears are streaming down my face. I am _terrified_. I shouldn’t have disobeyed in the first place. What was I thinking? What the hell have I gotten myself into? This is going to be so much worse than anything done to me so far!

“I-i’m s-so sorry,” I stammer, looking up at Virus. “I m-made a m-mistake. I-I shouldn’t h-have d-disobeyed or d-delayed or m-messed up at b-breakfast. I w-was c-confused.” I add my slowest, longest, most seductive flutter of my lashes when I offer this most sincere confession, thinking this has to be enough to get me out of this. “M-maybe y-you c-could p-punish m-me a-and I c-could t-try again?”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that,” Virus says sweetly. “I’m sorry to say, as sweet as this confession of yours is. Keep this look, though. It’s nice on you. Put your hands behind your back, please.”

My heart is still thumping crazily in my chest and ringing loud in my ears, and I obey—without hesitation. I can’t make this any worse, I’m sure. The moment my hands are behind me, I feel something heavy and wooden clamp over the top of my wrists and then the bottom of them as well. The contraption is then connected to my ankles, so I am unable to move from the spot on the floor, stuck in this kneeling position. I feel suddenly claustrophobic and petrified.

“Trip and I are going to show you what your life will be like if you were to continue the disobedience form this morning. Now. Open your mouth for me, please.”

I obey, meekly—frightened to death. Virus gives me some sort of pill. It’s got a slight minty flavor to it. Then he holds up a glass of water to my mouth.

“Swallow.”

I’m frightened of what is being done to me, but if I disobey I'm sure I'll make the situation worse. What am I being given? What is this? A drug of some kind? My body is quivering slightly.

“That will make you more compliant. You’d be given such drugs daily until you responded of your own accord. And you would probably serve at another establishment. If you ever refused to serve, you’d be punished. Now, because it’s your first day, we will go easier on you.”

I have no idea what is expected of me, and I stare up at Virus, then glance over at Trip.

“He looks nice like this, doesn’t he? Let’s open that robe a little, huh?” Trip pulls the sash off my robe. It slides off my shoulders easily, slipping down my back to my wrists, exposing my shoulders, back, and chest. It’s slightly chilly in the room and I feel so vulnerable. I can't ever remember feeling so _small_.

“So, I will begin. It’s easier with someone dressed like I am. Undress me, Konoe,” Virus commands.

I startle at his words. I can’t move at all, and I don’t have access to my hands. What the hell? How am I supposed to do that, restrained like this?  
  
“B-but m-my hands—?”

“You don’t need them. Be _creative_ ,” he says. He steps a little closer to me—and I can tell he is aroused. Aroused? _Wait_. A violent shudder rushes through my body that makes me flinch. I suddenly realize what it is I will be expected to do, and I start to feel sick to my stomach. I can smell his scent and it's overpowering. My tail lashes and my ears flatten. My claws draw against the wooden restraint and I bare fangs rather uselessly.

“P-please—I d-don’t think I can—”

“Konoe, if you give me any excuses, you will be punished. Remember what happened the _last_ time you delayed.”

Well, he can’t exactly _spank_ me, can he, from how I’m sitting? I'm kneeling, for one. He doesn't have access to my ass. I’m pretty safe, I think, so I don’t make any moves.

“Last chance to comply,” Virus warns. And my last chance isn’t even two seconds.

A slim stick—a cane—flies out of nowhere down against the tops of my thighs, which are bare and unprotected. The blow is _completely_ unexpected—and I startle at the sound. I also cannot move to protect myself. A second blow follows the first—and I look down at my lap, and two very slim red marks appear across the fair skin of my thighs. The welts appear at the same time as the pain registers and I scream in response. It feels like a burn—like the skin has been seared in small thin lines. My knees are pressed together and my toes are curled, my tail is quivering in pain, and I am sobbing quietly.

I am still trying to catch my breath when Virus says, “Konoe, _delayed_ obedience is _disobedience_. I’m warning you. Undress me or I will have to punish you again.”

“Ah—um,” I stammer, and I lean forward immediately, trying to show that I am making an effort while still sobbing and unable to wipe my tears. I grab onto the sash of Virus’ robe with my teeth and pull it off, letting his robe fall open. He is also wearing underwear underneath, and again, I am made very aware of his arousal. It sickens me.

“Go on.”

Without looking up at him, I press my nose into his underwear and grab onto the waistband with my teeth, pulling it down, letting his erection spring free. I hear a soft gasp, almost like relief, when it does. 

“That’s enough. Just bare enough so you can put it in your mouth. Now, I saw your teeth just now. If I feel even a _graze_ you will be punished and _severely_. Do you understand?"

When I do not respond, my chin is grabbed and my neck craned uncomfortably upward. Virus’ cool blue gaze pierces me, and my ears flatten.

“Do you _understand_ me, kitten?” The smooth cane is pressed against the fresh welts on my thighs and I shudder.

“Yes, sir,” I murmur, tears burning in my eyes. 

“Now. It’s proper etiquette to start slowly, seductively. It’s fine to be shy, but a little eye contact can be sexy. Try licking it first.” 

I obey, revulsion flooding my body—but I don’t see that I have a choice. I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment and purse my lips—just for a _moment_ to prepare myself—and thwack! Another punishing blow flies down against the skin of my thighs. 

The tears burning in the back of my throat actually burst from my eyes and leak down my cheeks, along with another yelp and helpless sob.

“Please!” I cry out. “Just—I need a moment!”

Thwack!

“You _need_ to obey, kitten. Open your mouth before I _show_ you how it’s done _forcefully_. We can do it that way, too.”

I keep my lips closed, disobediently— _unwilling_ to do this. I have taken off his clothes and he is right here in my face—but I just can’t bring myself to do this! I just need a minute. I am too disgusted! I'm going to be sick!

“Please!” I beg again.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

In rapid succession, three blows rain down on my lap, and I’m screaming and sobbing, unable to contain my tears. The fresh welts appear faster and burn hotter than the earlier ones since my nerves are already raw and excited.

“We will do this the _hard_ way, then,” Virus says, still calm, grabbing my hair. I’m still sobbing from pain—my thighs are red and welted. “Make sure to relax your jaw.”

My mouth is open from sobbing, and he shoves his dick in my mouth. I cough and choke, utterly disgusted, but he just fucks me using my mouth as a hole, ignoring my distress completely.

“This would be easier on you if you’d cooperate, kitten. Relax,” he murmurs, and he uses one hand to rub the outside of my jaw. I try my best to relax, but I am sobbing and agony, afraid I might suffocate—choking and coughing, and my vision is going gray.

“Oy, Virus, I think you’re hurting him,” Trip says. 

“He’s fine. I’m teaching him a lesson,” Virus says, and his breath is getting heavier. “Use your tongue a little, kitten. It will go easier on you if you do.”

I try to do as he asks, but sticking out my tongue makes me choke more. I feel like I am going to throw up—and I start gagging now.

“Such a _drama_ queen, you are,” Virus says, between panting breaths. “Just relax, for gods’ sake." 

The entire ordeal can’t last that long, but it feels like an eternity to me! Eventually, he comes—releasing in my mouth—right in the back of my throat. I choke on it, tempted to spit it out but terrified of what he'd do to me if I did, and am left wheezing. He finally pulls out and it feels really good to be able to breathe again.

“Trip, I know you want a turn but he needs to learn a little lesson about this drama act first. Release him from the restraints.”

The heavy wood drops off my wrists and ankles while Virus pulls on his robe. I feel relieved to be released from those heavy restraints.

“Stand up.”

I obey, my legs shaking.

“Get over to that wall and grab onto the third rung.”

There is weird kind of a ladder on the wall, and I obey—holding onto the ladder as instructed.

“Now, bend over and spread your legs so you can withstand the blows. I’m sorry to do this to you, kitten, but that was _terrible_. Any client would punish you for that performance, and if I’d heard you’d done such a thing to a client, I’d punish you for your behavior as well. You made me feel like you _abhorred_ me.”

That's because I _did_ actually abhor him. And unfortunately, I _don’t_ do as instructed. In fact, I turn around and drop to my knees and beg and plead. 

“Please! I can’t! I just can’t take anymore! I can’t do this! _Please_!”

“Kitten, get up and obey. Your punishment will be worse if I have to force you.”

My entire body is shaking. What _is_ this? _Why_ are they doing this to me? I am so discouraged and I cannot make myself obey!

“ _Please_! No! I’m begging you!”

“I hear you. And this is for your own good, kitten. Trip, please give our trainee a hand.”

Trip walks up to me, strips off my robe, and lifts me off the floor. I am wailing at this point—still begging and crying, but I stay standing. He puts my hands where I was instructed, bending me over and petting my ass, as fat tears roll down my face.

“There you go, sweetheart. Now, stay just like this.” He pushes my legs together for a minute and I feel the whoosh of my underwear being stripped from my body—leaving me completely bare.

“Ah—n-no— _please_! I-i’m s-sorry—I-i c-couldn’t—I-i—”

“I know, I know,” Trip soothes me, and he strokes my tail gently. He spread my legs apart. “You’ll need a wider stance so you can withstand the blows. We don’t want you to faint, since we aren’t finished with the lesson, but we do need you to understand that we’re serious here.”

“Your performance was _unseemly_ and _unacceptable_ , Konoe,” Virus says, and his voice is terribly close to my ear. “I know it was your first time, but you need to be more compliant. What if I had been the silver cat? Would you have treated _him_ like that?”

A little shiver rushes through my body at the thought. Will _he_ expect that from me? Will I have to take him in my mouth? Will he fuck me like that? My gods. What if he doesn't use my mouth? Shit! Is that my job here? My gods!

“He may in fact expect _exactly_ that from you—in thanks for those flowers he sent. You’d best prepare yourself. And the _best_ way to prepare yourself is to practice, kitten. Get used to it. Relax your jaw and get used to it. But first, I am afraid we need to punish you for _that_ atrocity.”

“P-please,” I sob quietly.

“I think ten should suffice. I will be pleased with ten. I’d like you to count.”

Count? Count what? I can barely breathe. I'm too preoccupied with the idea of the silver cat wanting to fuck me to think of anything else. It scares the living shit out of me!

“I’ll begin again if I see a hand back here or if you move from that position. Or if you fail to count. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Sir, _please_!” I am so confused I don't know what is going on, but I am afraid to let go of the rung of the ladder where Trip placed my hand.

“Is ten not enough for you? Then move your tail.”

“Um, if it pleases you, sir,” I say quietly, and I lower my ears, curling my tail up out of the way.

The first blow—it’s the cane—comes down across the fullest part of my ass, and I can feel the welt rising up on my skin. It burns a sharp, clear, stinging line—making the flesh around it jiggle. I cry out loud, of course, in response. Oh! Right. He wants me to count each blow!

“One,” I manage, after getting my sobs under control.

“One _what_?” Virus asks, and he lands another blow, right after, slightly lower.

“Ah!” Tears still spill from my eyes. “One, sir?” I ask softly, wiggling my hips a little, wanting so much to rub out the pain but being unable to touch anything but that rung on the ladder.

“ _Excellent_ , kitten.”

Smack!

The next comes down on my sit spot—and this one makes me scream in pain, crying tears right after. This pain wraps around to my groin and hurts so much more than the blows on my cheeks.

“Two! Sir!” 

Thwack!

After a short pause, the next lands across the top of my thighs, just below my sit spot. And if my sit spot stung and burned, this one stings even more, making me lift both my feet and stomp them slightly.

“ _Mmmm_! Three, sir!” He lets the pain sink in for a moment before I hear the whistle of the cane sailing through the air.

Smack!

Another blow to my ass, which stings, but these are much less intense to the ones applied lower on my body. I'm almost thankful for this blow.

“Four, sir,” my voice is still covered in tears.

Right after, smack, smack!

“Ah! Five and six, sir!”

And fresh tears spill with these—as these were applied to my thighs and sit spot. I keep my feet in place and try not to move my hands. I want so much to squeeze my legs together, but I have to maintain my position. My tail is flapping around aimlessly, helplessly, however, and my groin feels like it’s on fire. Strangely, my groin feels like it’s filling with blood.

Thwack! Thwack! 

Two more exceptional cruel blows to my thighs—and I scream in pain—unable to breathe for a moment—and I’m wheezing. I actually have moved my legs together after these blows. I can't help it!

“Maintain your position, kitten,” Virus warns.

“Ah—hah—Um, seven and eight, sir?”

Smack, smack!

And two more to my ass and sit spot—the one to my sit spot makes me nearly lose my balance, and I straighten out my back for just a moment, and my tail stretches out above my body, bristling straight up.

“Your _position_ , Konoe,” Virus says firmly.

“Sir, I’m sorry, sir! Nine and ten, sir!” I'm so glad I'm finished!

“Hmm. I’m not entirely satisfied,” Virus says.

“Please, sir,” I say, still maintaining my position. “ _Please_.” I beg, arching my back slightly.

“Accept a penalty then. No counting is necessary.”

I see the cane fall to the floor by my feet, and I’m relieved. But when I feel Virus step up beside me and press his hand to the small of my back, I become terrified. What is he going to do?

“I want you to relax your muscles and just accept this penalty,” he says. Something heavier and cool is pressed against my welted ass. My gods, it’s the damned hairbrush!

“Please,” I beg. “ _Please_!” I want to scream no, but I know better. The tears are coming before the blows begin. 

One cheek then the other, he smacks them hard and then even harder—each blow overlapping the next, covering the welts from the cane—and I yelp in pain, trying my best not to tighten my muscles or flinch. He covers my entire ass and then goes down the length of my thighs, alternating each one and then goes back up—even covering the insides of my thighs—which makes me cringe and feel sick to my stomach.

In some ways, this is even worse than the caning, because I see no end in sight. I am nearly broken when he is finished with me. My fur is a mess and my body is even worse.

But I am not begging him to stop. I am in tears and I am very, very sorry. And I am very, _very_ sorry I disobeyed and didn’t try harder for him at breakfast.

“Now. Let’s try this again. With Trip. I will allow you the use of your hands this time, but you must stay on your knees. Are you ready to submit?”

“Yes, sir, please.” I nod almost eagerly—anxious to avoid another spanking. Trip grins at me. He is dressed in regular clothes. I quickly get down to my knees without being told and wait for instructions, keeping my eyes down.

“Sir?” I ask.

“Go ahead,” Trip says. He seems excited to get started.

Approaching shyly, keeping my burning ass as low as possible—it feels cool against my calves and on the floor, I unbuckle his belt and his pants. I don’t remove them, however. I just remove enough to free his cock—which it does—and he is larger than Virus.

I am intimidated, but eager to avoid another punishment like the one I just suffered. The thought of a cane or a hairbrush going over my burning skin scares the crap out of me, so I carefully open my mouth— _still_ filled with revulsion. But I try to imagine what I’d do if Rai were standing here expecting this from me, and the revulsion starts to fade away a bit.

Grooming the fur right below Trip’s belly is how I start. It’s red, surprisingly—not blond. I’m a little shocked, but I let my tongue glide through it softly before I kiss just the tip of his dick.

“All right, enough messing around—I don’t need foreplay, kitten.”

I glance up through my lashes, and his cold blue eyes are staring down at me. I lower my eyes, intimidated by his stare and then I kiss the tip of his dick.

“I said I don’t need it,” he growls at me.

“Come on, be patient. He’s doing well,” Virus says. “Go ahead, kitten. You’re doing fine.”

I don’t really know what to do, so I run my tongue around the rim behind I sink as much as I can of his dick into my mouth. I’m nervous and my jaw is still sore from what Virus did to me earlier, and I glance up at Trip again, and he is _really_ glaring down at me. I am starting to get nervous. 

“More tongue,” he growls low. “And purr.”

Purr? How do I _make_ myself purr? I don’t know how to do that! I’m so scared I don’t think I can do it!

Taking him out of my mouth for a moment to lick him like candy, I whisper, “I don’t know how to make myself purr.”

“Try touching yourself. Not enough to, you know, but just a little.” 

I flatten my ears nervously. I've never done this in front of anyone else. Not _ever_.

“It’s sexy. I want to watch you do it.”

I move one of my hands from his cock to myself, and it surprisingly responds. I do, in fact, start to purr.

“Look up at me when you touch yourself.”

I glance up at him, his cock still in my mouth.

“Make a little noise if it feels good,” he adds.

I sigh a little—and the sound that comes out around the cock in my mouth is so incredibly vulgar it _shocks_ me. It ruffles the fur in my ears and makes my tail fluff up.

“Gorgeous,” Virus murmurs. “You look and sound _perfect_.”

A little more sound escapes and the shocking, lewd noise gets even worse. I just let it come out—in wet, purring sounds. It’s really weird and gross sounding, but it turns me on, too, making me hotter and making more noise come out.

“Don’t come,” Trip warns me. “If you do, you will be punished again.”

My ears flatten at the thought, but I don’t stop touching myself. I keep on stroking myself and sucking off Trip, but suddenly Trip rocks his hips forward. I choke, losing the ability to breathe. It forces me to let go of my own pleasure and I grab onto Trip’s shaft and protest.

“Hmph!” I urge.

“You feel good,” he murmurs. “Keep it up and relax your throat.” He snaps his hips and I gag and choke.

“Not even _one_ fang, kitten, or _else_ ,” he reminds me threateningly, and he pulls my hair roughly but strokes my ears gently. Then he grabs my neck with both of his hands and starts to slowly cut off my airway. It sends terror through my body, making my spine tingle.

“Hmmmph!” I beg, more urgently this time, truly frightened. Strangely, my cock stiffens even more on its own, despite or maybe even _because_ my airway is being cut off. I look up at Trip with total desperation in my eyes, pleading him to let go of me, to let air into my lungs. And he starts fucking my mouth, the same way Virus did. I relax my body as best as I can— _completely_ discouraged and defeated—realizing I can’t win. Even if I do just as they tell me, they are still going to do whatever they like to me.

I just relax and wait for him to come—in fact, I try to make it _easier_ for him to come.

I purr louder, I move my tongue, I relax my throat. I let the tears fall and I look up with terror in my eyes and plead as best I can, look as desperate and meek and submissive as possible.

Finally, I feel him stuttering, thank the gods since I am about to pass out. Surely he is bruising my throat! I choke when he releases in my mouth and he sighs and gasps and I swallow his come, relieved when his hands release my neck.

I cough and wheeze when air comes back into my lungs—and my gods—it feels almost like I am flying! I am tempted to touch myself—in fact, I have to stop my hands from moving to my groin—because he did say I was not permitted to come.

But I shiver and I am hard and dripping at this point, purring and a _complete_ mess.

“Please,” I whisper. “May I just… um, quickly…?” I look up at Trip, who is completely relaxed, and over to Virus who is watching me closely.

“No,” Virus commands. “That is not allowed. Didn’t you hear your body _isn’t_ your own? You’re not allowed your own pleasure unless your client desires it. And Trip forbade it, though you look lovely when you are desperate.”

“Yes, sir,” I say. I am feeling very strange—is it whatever drug he’s given me? I have no idea. Instead, I rub my throat and look down at my lap—surprised to see red welts across my thighs. It makes me feel weird—seeing them makes them burn, and makes my ass catch fire as well.

“Ah, I see. You really were in quite a state, weren’t you? Did you forget you had been punished, kitten? Poor thing.” Virus sounds almost sympathetic. 

“He’s probably due for some quiet time now, right?” Trip murmurs.

“Yes. You need to think about this morning—everything that’s happened this morning, your actions, their consequences. We have some things to do, but we are going to leave you up here to think about what you’ve done and if this the kind of life you’d like to lead. There is an alternative for you, if you are willing to _obey_ and _submit_ to our rules, of course.” Virus nods at Trip for a moment.

“Wrists, please,” Trip nudges my hands behind my back, and I’m still on my knees. I’m slightly horrified, but I obey. I feel the heavy weight of that wooden brace come down against my wrists and attach to my heels. I am stuck right where I am once again—except nude and _extremely_ aroused. A few tears slip down my cheeks when I realize they are going to leave me here—like this.

“P-please,” I beg softly. “D-didn’t I p-please you?”

“Oh, you did well, kitten,” Virus says. “However, you are being punished for your disobedience this morning. So, you will stay here and think about that. I don’t wish to see that sort of attitude from you ever again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” I say—my voice in a whisper.

“He is quite pretty like this, don’t you think? Maybe we should consider displaying him just like this?” 

“Perhaps, but he's not quite as innocent as I’d like. Although, a little experience is always good. Now he at least knows a little of what to expect.”

The two larger cats leave—and I am naked, kneeling alone in a dark, damp room, my wrists bound uncomfortably behind my back, my body hot and sweating and uncomfortable. I can’t stop thinking about the silver cat. If he were here right now, surely he wouldn’t do this to me, would he? He wouldn't leave me like this? Regardless of how “pretty” I looked?

But I don’t know anything about him. He could have a collection of cats just like me at his home. He could purchase me—one of many, I suppose, to serve him just like I served both Virus and Trip. My throat hurts, my jaw aches, my heart aches, and my mouth tastes disgusting. I want to vomit. I want a shower. I want to touch myself and give myself some relief.

Mostly, I’m terribly worried about feeling so good when I was strangled. Why would my body respond? Why would I get excited by that?

I feel revulsion and self-hatred in equal parts—piling on top of each other—along with my arousal—and none of these feelings will go away. And I feel regret for my stupid rebellious behavior toward Virus this morning. Surely, I will cower at his feet when he next comes in and I will repent. 

I have learned my lesson. I will submit. I will be a good kitten here. I will never disobey them again. I promise. I have learned my lesson. I whisper my promise to myself, over and over like a mantra.

"Please. I am sorry. Please. I'll submit. I've learned my lesson. I'll never disobey again. Please. I'll be good. Please. Please. Don't leave me here. Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After being discovered he is a Sanga, Konoe is given the "privilege" of sleeping in Virus' room for safety reasons. In the morning, Virus figures he should learn the manners and etiquette of serving breakfast. Konoe tires of this task rather quickly and figures if he is a valuable Sanga, there's no point in this task. He gives up easily and rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue, irritating Virus. Virus threatens him with punishment, finally sending him upstairs to fetch his hairbrush.
> 
> He goes--all the other students are at breakfast--but Konoe doesn't return right away. Instead, he lingers in his room, enjoying the bouquet he received from Rai. He is fondling the note and daydreaming when Trip comes to fetch him and gets him in Big Trouble. Trip drags him out of the room by his ear, with the brush, and up into the Tower.
> 
> Konoe is drugged and restrained on his knees with his hands behind him and forced to "service' Virus. The idea is that if Konoe is unwilling to learn what they have to teach, this is his alternative. Konoe freaks out and won't do as he's asked, and instead gets caned on his thighs. When he realizes he has no choice, he undresses Virus--with his mouth--and then freaks out again. He is basically orally raped, stripped, and then punished severely for not submitting to his request--caned and then spanked with the brush because he didn't submit to the punishment either.
> 
> He's left pretty wrecked, needless to say, and then he's told to service Trip. Konoe does better for Trip, but Trip is impatient. He demands that Konoe purr--which cats can't do on command--so Konoe has to touch himself as well. Trip ends up choking Konoe--asphyxiating him, which Konoe's body responds to, much to his dismay and horror--leaving his neck bruised.
> 
> Of course, he isn't allowed to come, but he has been drugged with an aphrodisiac to make him slightly more willing and uncomfortable. The two leave him in the dark, restrained on his knees, and aroused, to ponder his poor decisions and to repent of his lack of submission.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, what a place to leave the poor kitten!
> 
> Virus comes to "collect" Konoe after leaving him in the tower to consider his actions, and Konoe has seriously repented, swearing never again to defy either Virus or Trip. He is fed and his wounds are cared for, and then he is introduced to a dashing dance instructor, much to Aoba's chagrin.

I’m left on my knees—shackled and alone in the tower—the entire morning. My legs are aching, my bones creaking, and any passion or arousal I was feeling is long gone by the time I hear the door at the base of the steps. I can’t really move, but I’m hoping and praying I will be allowed to get off my knees and out of these restraints.

But instead of pleading, I keep my face lowered demurely—as timidly and submissively as possible—but my body shakes when I detect Virus approaching. I can tell it’s him on the stairs—Trip has a heavier gait.

_Please please please please please_

My thoughts race but I don’t speak. I don’t open my mouth.

“Kitten. Have you considered your actions from this morning?”

“I have, sir, yes. I was terribly wrong and disrespectful,” I say, my voice quivering.

“Fortunately for you, we need to get you in shape and prevent damaging you before your debut.” 

“Thank you for teaching me, sir.” My voice is so quiet—but not a trace of bitterness remains.

“Look at me, kitten.”

Obediently, I lift my eyes, feeling fresh tears drip down my cheeks. He is dressed now, at least—lime and black and white, looking calm and cool and collected as always. 

“What a gorgeous creature you are—submissive and obedient. Do you think you can remember this lesson? You have a lot of work ahead of you.” 

I’m so exhausted, but I nod as eagerly as I can.

“I’m glad. I should see to it that you are fed and cared for.” He reaches out to my ears and I don’t even flinch. He strokes my ear softly, then reaches behind me to release the heavy weight behind my back—the restraints connecting my wrists and ankles. At first, my body won’t move from its position, as though it is frozen. And certainly, my muscles are severely cramped. “I’d also hate to damage your skin. You need to see to it that you do not disobey so much, for your skin is so lovely and fair.” 

A soft robe—a fuzzy warm one—is wrapped around my body, which is strangely chilled. Virus expects my arms to be frozen and does not rebuke me, much to my surprise. Instead, he gently moves my arms toward the front of my body, giving my shoulders a gentle stretch. I feel a painful pop in both my shoulders, my neck, and across my back, and bite back a cry of pain.

“You poor kitten. You’ve done very well. Come along now.” 

Almost tenderly, he lifts me up and carries me down the stairs. 

I am so relieved to be away from that tower that I do everything I can to cooperate. I keep my gaze down, I remain submissive and obedient—frightened to death to have that sort of sexual assault pressed on me again. It takes time to regain control over my body, however—and I’m given the time to regain it. A simple sandwich—nourishing and easy to eat—with milk and fruit—is served for lunch. I make a bit of a mess with it. Virus sends to me to bathe afterward, the door between the bathing chamber and his room open in case I slip or need help. He continues chatting with me about current events, however—and I realize my lessons are continuing, even now.

“You will be participating in dance lessons after this. So I will need you dressed and joining the rest of the class.”

“Yes, sir,” I murmur. I wonder who my partner will be.

After bathing, he treats my wounded skin with a salve rather than a disinfectant and allows me to get dressed. Soon enough, I find myself in the ballroom with the other students.

“Konoe, you don’t look so well,” Tokino muses.

I smile as best I can, but I don’t speak. I’m afraid of what I might say. Aoba grimaces as if he knows what has happened, and he knows I didn’t spend the night in my room last night.

“Just—learn what they teach you. Resist as little as possible,” he advises quietly.

The ballroom doors swing open, and an instructor waltzes in with an oddly familiar flourish. He’s dressed in a dashing deep burgundy suit and has long dark hair and fur—almost so dark it looks blue. He’s tall and attractive—in some ways, he reminds me an awful lot of the silver cat, but a darker, slightly older version of him. And he is smiling and friendly, if rather debonair. And he looks my way in an instant.

“You must be Konoe,” his voice purrs gently. It’s soft and deep and soothing—and he walks up to me, using long graceful strides. He takes my hand—in the exact same way the silver cat did—and kisses it. Beside me, Aoba bristles abruptly, and I hear him clicking his tongue, looking away.

“Ah, um, yes? Sir?” I’m confused. He must be the dance instructor. But why is Aoba upset—and is he upset with me? 

“I’m Koujaku. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His eyes are lifted toward my face as he is kneeling before me, and they sparkle—a warm brown. His teeth are long and white and lovely, and I feel his eyes skate up and down my body. “You are _adorable_. Do you have any dance experience?” I notice Koujaku takes a quick glance at Aoba standing on my right, and I can’t believe my ears, but I am sure I hear him _huff_ in displeasure. 

Because of my experience upstairs in the tower today, listening to what I think may be the beginning of either a hissy fit or a mild explosion next to me, I start to become very nervous. And I don’t want anything to do with it.

To my shock, a long arm reaches out to the simmering blue fluff beside me and strokes his ears with drawn claws. I overhear gently spoken words, definitely not meant for my ears, but I can’t help it. I can’t move.

“Listen, Aoooba. You are taking this rather hard. Don’t you trust me after all this time? I am only here to help your friend get on his feet and learn to dance. Don’t you want him to have a good experience with his debut—just like you did? And then, I will pay you all the attention you could possibly desire. But until then, you will have to show a little more graciousness than this.” 

His voice is soft, gentle—and to my surprise, indulgent and teasing—and _very_ sexy. Could he be… Aoba’s first experience? Then my next thought is: How much could a dancing instructor make? Enough to purchase another cat's virginity?

“Today, I will focus my attention on you, Konoe. We want you to be perfect and charming for your debut. Did I hear you are already attracting interest?”

“Um, yes, sir. Some, sir.”

Koujaku motions for the music to start and the other students pair up—Aobo dances with Noiz while watching us.

“First, stand up straight and tall. Posture, posture, posture—it makes all the difference. Your partners will slow down their gait for you, but if you move well, you may be able to take them by surprise.” He takes me rather firmly by the waist and pulls me up straight, lining up my hips with my feet, pushing my weight over the balls of my feet instead of my heels. “Suck in your stomach and drop your shoulders, yes,” he says, walking around to my back. “Now, your neck—gods, you’ve got a gorgeous neck, like a swan. Extend it as long as possible, like that.” He has his hands on my body, showing me what to do.

“My next question—did I hear you are a Sanga?” It’s whispered conspiratorially.

“I-I’m n-not s-supposed to s-say…” I stammer again, shocked he’d know such a thing.

Koujaku shakes his head, shiny black hair shimmering around him gently.

“This means you will have no problem feeling the beat and rhythm. So, while we stand like this—our starting position—close your eyes and listen for the rhythm—really try to _feel_ it in your heart.”

I nod briefly and close my eyes. Sure enough, I can feel it.

“Can you tell time signatures?”

“Yes. This is 3/4, a waltz.”

“Very good,” he purrs into my ear. He is about three heads taller than me, and I don’t like him touching me quite so intimately—or rather, that is what I’d _like_ to be able to say, but I can’t quite admit that to myself.

I try to tell myself that I’m learning to dance because if I do, I’ll be able to dance with Rai—the lovely silver cat—and just the idea of him holding me so close in his arms makes my ears get hot.

“Hou? What’s this, then? Pink ears? Cute! Am I making you uncomfortable? Perhaps you’re not quite as Virus described you.”

I look up at the brown eye not covered by the dark bangs, and I try to stop the offended growl from leaking from my throat.

“What? You look terribly offended. It’s awfully cute.” He chuckles. “All I meant to say is that you’re considerably more innocent than described.” 

I look away, disgusted. Exactly _how_ am I being described? What, _exactly_ , is my function here? And I start to feel slightly sick. Entertainer, my ass! _Whore_ is much more like it, considering what has been done to me this morning—and suddenly, I wonder how much of that information has been leaked to the person whose arms are currently around me.

“And see? You’re a natural! I haven’t even told you what to do, and you simply follow. Now the question remains,” he lowers his lips to my ear and softens his voice, “are you also this submissive in the bedroom as well? How enchanting!” 

I don’t stop dancing, but my fur bristles all at once—I think in anger, but not entirely. I also happen to notice Aoba—who is currently struggling with Noiz, who is failing entirely to keep his hands on Aoba’s waist. Instead, he is caressing Aoba's tail and his ass. But Aoba, instead of being distracted by Noiz, is staring my direction and watching Koujaku’s interactions with me. 

“You’re giving my roommate an entirely inappropriate impression,” I hiss.

“Am I, though? Aren’t you making an assumption?” Koujaku replies casually, lowering my body into a dip, leaving me feeling helpless.

“What kind of assumption?”

“Well, aren’t you assuming that I’m _not_ interested?”

 _You aren’t, are you?_ It's what I want to say. _You couldn’t possibly be. You’re only trying to fluster me._ But the words won’t come.

“Would it bother you?” He smiles—and he is quite attractive when he smiles—and lifts me back up from the dipped position.

“Of course it would!” I hiss low, unable to keep my voice pleasant or civil. “He is my roommate and he is obviously not over you!”

“We aren’t exclusive. He’s seen others besides me—he can’t help it while he is living here. I know that.” Koujaku sounds so casual about it. “It’s part of his contract. And why should I hold back when a new kitten is about to make his debut?”

I simply gape at him, unable to speak. I don’t have the words to reply. Well, I do, but I probably shouldn't say them. But he laughs suddenly.

“Why? Have you already found someone who strikes your fancy? Because if you have, I’d suggest letting him know. If he knows your feelings are mutual, there is often little that can be done to get in the way between you.”

My ears heat up into what is I’m sure must be a deeper shade of red.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He remarks, again so casually. “Your ears make you look so innocent and sweet.”

His words don’t actually help my self-consciousness. I don’t want Aoba to hate me, so I consider my words carefully.

“Actually, yes. There is a specific cat,” I say. “B-but I’m not sure h-he will like me after these two weeks are up.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“The, um, training?” I say quietly, not looking up.

“Isn’t it going well? I’d say it’s doing wonders for your current level of attraction. In fact, I think I will attend your debut myself.”

“Why?” I ask, glancing up and being met with that warm gaze and soft smile.

“Well, why do you think?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I say, and then I realize I sound terribly obstinate.

“You know, I heard you got yourself in a little trouble this morning. Something to do with your tone? Am I wrong?”

A slight shiver rushes down my spine and I stiffen my body, making me miss a step.

“Oh, now, now. Don’t get nervous. It will mess up your dancing.” 

I become filled with fear, quite suddenly. I don’t know _what_ I was thinking. I have been incredibly disrespectful and stupid—simply because he was acting kindly toward me. I was nervous about Aoba and I was afraid to step on any toes, but I just ended up acting privileged and bratty again. What is it going to take for me to understand my place here?

“Please,” I whisper. “Please—don’t punish me.”

I stop my feet suddenly, lowering my face, feeling my eyes burn with tears.

“I-i c-can’t repeat wh-what h-happened this m-morning,” I stammer. My body is stiff and nervous, and I don’t know what to do. No, I _know_ what to do, I just can’t seem to do it. I’m causing a scene.

I force myself to the floor—onto my knees—which is intensely painful from the position I was forced to maintain for all those hours this morning, tears spilling down my face.

“I apologize,” I whisper. “I was out of line. I-I am still v-very n-new and l-learning what i-is expected of m-me—” 

“Konoe!” I hear Tokino call my name and I do not look up. I can hear Aoba trying to interfere with him, shushing him.

“Well, as sweet as you look on your knees, you can’t very well dance in that position, kitten.” Koujaku’s voice sounds just as friendly as it has since the very start of the lesson. “Come on. Stand up.”

He pulls me to my feet.

“You’re here to dance, not beg for your life.” I feel his hands brush my ears softly as he continues dancing me across the floor. “Listen. I wish I could say you are safe here, but I think you understand as well as I do that you aren’t. However, there are things you can do to make things easier and things you can do to make things harder for yourself. Have you figured out what those things are yet?” 

A small sigh approaching a sob escapes my throat. I can’t help it—it’s such a pitiful sound.

“Hush. This is a _dance_ class. We don’t shed tears in this class!” Koujaku says softly. “You will do just fine, kitten, and you will get a favorable report from me. Don’t fret.” Then he stops and lifts my chin, making me meet his gaze. “You don’t have time to worry about anyone but yourself right now. Do you understand?” 

I nod briefly, seeing tears sparkle on my lashes.

“So. Who is this cat you have your eye on? Someone you knew before?”

Shaking my head, I answer.

“No. I just met him on my second day here. I was taking my written placement exam and he entered the parlor. He’s a former student.”

“Oh? I am an alum as well. Maybe I know him. What’s his name?” 

“Rai. He’s tall, like you are, similar in build, only with silver hair.”

“Wait. Long silver hair? With an eyepatch?” Koujaku seems to flinch. “You met _Rai_?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“I would say so,” he replies somewhat cryptically.

“Did you attend school here at the same time?” I wonder if they had charity cases back then and if they were treated as poorly as I am being treated, but I don’t say anything. Who would have trained Rai to be a bounty hunter? Would he have learned that here?

“We did, but that’s not how I know him,” Koujaku smiles broadly.

I am quiet for a moment, hoping he will explain.

“I’m sure he thinks you are simply adorable,” he continues, but he does not answer my most pressing question. How does he know Rai?

“How do you know him?” I finally ask.

“He’s my younger brother,” Koujaku replies.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koujaku meets his little brother for tea and teasing.
> 
> Virus plans Konoe's debut and gives him a practice run, with a little help from Trip, Akira, and Aoba.
> 
> Trigger warnings: non-con touching, not-at-all-safe BDSM practices, non-con groping, non-con stripping, coercion, threats, forced orgasm, tail sex.
> 
> Just a note: This is not BDSM, dear readers. This is abuse, clear and simple. Please be warned.

Sitting in a pristine parlor of the finest mansion of the city of Ransen, Koujaku has decided to pay his brother a visit. They are sharing a cup of tea, but anyone looking through the picturesque bay windows could tell their conversation was anything but friendly banter. The silver cat’s fur was standing on end.

“I’ve received an invitation! There’s no reason I shouldn’t attend,” Koujaku says calmly, setting his teacup back in the saucer, his dark eyes meeting the narrowed icy blue gaze in front of him.

“That _wasn’t_ my question,” Rai replies, making an obvious attempt to keep his voice calm and failing. This cat—his brother—was the only person who could succeed in riling up his temper. He is too old to be reacting to this sort of ridiculous provocation. “The question was, for what _purpose_ would you be attending?”

“Oh, well, that’s easy to answer. I visited the school yesterday and I met the newest, er, merchandise, I think that’s what Virus calls them now? He’s quite cute.” Koujaku takes a biscuit from the tray on the table and dips it in his tea, keeping his eyes glued on his younger sibling, waiting for his brother's reaction.

Rai doesn’t reply at first. He can’t reply. He is furious. Reacting to his older brother’s needling will only encourage him. He waits till the latest flash of anger passes and he can answer calmly. 

“What about your fling with the blue-haired kitten? I thought you were serious about him. Aren’t you worried you’ll upset him?”

“Aoba? Yes, he’s upset. He was very upset when I spent the entire lesson dancing with the new adorable blonde recruit yesterday, but in my defense, I was asked to pay him special attention since he will be making his debut a week from tomorrow. He’s a _natural_.” Koujaku winks and sees Rai’s brow furrow slightly. “I mean, you should have seen him. Seeing a kitten who’d never taken a dance step in his life follow my steps as well as he did was amazing. I couldn’t help imagining if he’d be so compliant in the bedroom.” 

A growl leaks unwittingly from the silver cat in front of him and Koujaku takes another sip from his tea to suppress his smile. Koujaku has never seen his brother so worked up about another cat before. This is quite new—and a welcome change.

“I was a little concerned when I saw him today—despite how compliant he seemed and how obedient he was for me, he seems to have quite defiant eyes. I know Applebaum's doesn’t handle defiance well, especially not from their charity students. It worries me—what they might do to, um, enforce his compliance and encourage his obedience.”

The silver cat’s ears bristle angrily.

“Was he injured?”

“I couldn’t say from looking at him. If he was, it was well hidden. He seemed exhausted and frightened, though. As well as quite desperate.”

A louder growl leaks from the silver cat across the table.

“What they think of as training is nothing but abuse!”

“You don't need to convince me, Rai. Also, he mentioned you.”

The small white ears which were folded back against his head perk up suddenly and the growl stops. It's a cute mannerism his brother has had since his youth, Koujaku notices. He's not lost it even as an adult, and it makes his emotions rather easy to read.

“What?” Rai asks quietly. He knows that his brother loves teasing him—about anything and everything. Koujaku has always ever been the only cat who has this effect on him and he plays it up for all its worth. “What did he say?” 

“Wouldn’t it be boring if I told you?” Koujaku notices the long tail, flicking in irritation as Rai peers out the window. There is a brief pause in the conversation, during which the younger cat must be trying to collect himself.

“Just out with it!” Rai snaps. “It’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Just ask what you want to ask!”

“Do you like him? That young tiny blonde? Did you send him flowers? It’s obvious he adores you, too. He's smitten with you. There’s something quite magical about him.” 

Rai sighs, resting his head on the table. Koujaku laughs.

“You can’t do that in front of him, Rai. You’ll have to show him better manners! Additionally, our father would have killed you if he saw you ever resting your head on the table so rudely, rest his soul.”

“Oh, Father tried his best with me and never did quite succeed in beating my personality out of me,” Rai sighs. After a short pause, he continues, “I thought I might have frightened him the first time we met. I thought he was cute when I first saw him—and then, when he spoke—something inside me changed. I think…”

Koujaku looks up now at the tone of his brother’s voice. He’s never heard Rai speak this way.

“You think?” He prompts softly.

“I don’t know. I only met him once. It’s ridiculous.”

“What do you think?” Koujaku asks again, his dark tail reaching underneath the table and brushing against the silver one, which is still flicking in agitation. _I’ve never seen him like this._  

“I thought he was _special_. His voice was special. I _want_ him. Maybe it was just an attraction, but it felt deeper than that.” Rai looks back at Koujaku, meeting a warm gaze. 

“Well. If you’re being so honest and open with me, I might as well do the same. I was going to go to help you out if that’s what you want. I know they are marketing the shit out of him. It’s pathetic. And he looked exhausted. If you like him—and I see why you might—you won’t want him to go to anyone else. Don’t put it off. And don’t, um…” Koujaku looks away now.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t let him get away or go to someone else after you. He will _never_ forgive you. Trust me.”

Rai can’t help hearing the regret and pain in his brother’s voice. He sighs.

“Just apologize and he will take you back, Koujaku,” Rai says.

The two finish their tea in peaceful silence.  

* * *

My week isn’t going well. After the exhausting day in the tower and dance training, I go back to my regular lessons in history and with Virus, though I am still not allowed to eat in the dining room with the other students. I’m forced to dine with Virus again. He insists on my serving him, pouring tea, wine, and water, and he's insisting on a pleasant conversation. This is part of my training, I know, but I’m tired and sore—my jaw is still tired, which disgusts me to even think about. I can’t think about what happened in the tower without horrible revulsion and nausea rising to my mouth. 

What if— 

What if the silver cat doesn’t _want_ me?

What if I end up with someone else, and I am forced to do _that_ to another cat—a stranger—or someone cruel like Trip or Virus? And what happens _after_ the silver cat has me? What then? Am I up for grabs for anyone, like Aoba is?

“Konoe.” Virus’ voice shakes me from my reverie, and I’m stunned for a moment, brought back to reality. “I don’t feel as though you’re giving me your very best treatment, kitten.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I apologize, lowering my eyes. “M-may I refill your glass?”

“I’m fine. I’d enjoy your conversation, however. What’s on your mind?”

“I know I have no right to ask, sir, but I, um, was wondering about the social event.” I look up at Virus through my lashes—I know it's a flirty way to get what I want, but it often works with him.

“Yes? What about it?”

“What, um, exactly does it entail? What will be expected of me? I would like to do all I can to ensure that I please you, sir. I’d like to be prepared.” 

“Would you, now?” Virus smiles, but the smile does not reach his cold blue eyes. He is watching me carefully. “I’ve considered telling you exactly what it entails. I’ve done that in the past. However, I want to be sure you don’t have too much anxiety.”

“Sir?” I ask, my anxiety rising instantly.

“Well, darling kitten, it’s an event we hold at least twice a year for all students such as yourself. We time these social events according to the mating season, of course, for your comfort as well as those of our guests.”

“The mating season, sir?” I’m a male, so I cannot have kittens—and then it occurs to me. “Will, um, females be in attendance, sir?” Will I be expected to impregnate a female? My gods, that’s barbaric—I’ll be auctioned off as a stud, like some farm animal!

“We have had females attend in the past, but at the moment, I don’t believe we have any who wish to attend.” 

I feel somewhat relieved. But then, why would he bring up the mating season? I open my mouth to ask but Virus stares at me, silencing my question.

“You are getting better at conversation, kitten, but you need to remember to ask questions about your company. And if I could give you some advice—if your company enjoys what you are doing, _don’t_ stop.”

His words send a shudder of fright down my spine, making my tail bristle.

“We will have light appetizers and lots of booze, and we open up many of the guest rooms, making them available for our guests who win the auctions to use however they wish. Additionally, we have outdoor space available as well. There will be dancing and entertainment. You won’t run out of activities.”

“What kind of auctions, sir?” I ask, almost afraid I know the answer. 

Virus sighs, resting his chin on his hands.

“Hasn’t Aoba spoken to you about this yet?”

“Um, he’s said some things, but sir, they sounded unbelievable to me.”

“What exactly do you think you are being trained for, Konoe?”

“I-i’m not sure, sir,” I say, lowering my ears.

“Well, let me ask you this. How do you plan to work off your debt to this school for all we’ve done for you? And all we will teach you?”

“I-i… I don't know, sir.”

“This is the ideal way to do it, which is why I came up with the brilliant idea. You and the other charity students will showcase your talents—and you will assist the others in showcasing their talents—and then, there will be an auction at the end of the evening. Those who are willing to pay the most will win, and you will spend the night with the cat who wins you.” The thought is a little chilling, since the silver cat may not really be interested in me that way.

“Are there other charity students here besides Aoba?” I ask.

“Akira is one as well.”

“Do they also sing?”

“No. Aoba dances. And Akira—he has another talent. I’ve already decided you will be perfect to showcase his talent. The difference between these two is that they have already been through this at least once before. So if I can pair you up with both of them, it will help you shine.”

“What is Akira’s talent?”

“Oh, now I think I will leave that as a surprise,” Virus says. “It will make you look very, very good. Delectable, I think—as long as you are willing and submissive. And you have been over the past few days. It’s almost as though your time in the tower has helped you see the light.”

A few moments pass in silence. Should I mention my desire to see Rai?

“Sir—I would very much like the silver cat to come to the social. I realize there isn’t much I can do besides invite him to come—but I am afraid he won’t like me anymore.”

“Don’t you _trust_ me, kitten?” Virus asks. His voice is slightly lower. “Don’t you remember what I promised you at the beginning of this training?”

“Um—” I honestly do  _not_ trust Virus. He frightens me!

“I told you that you would have him—and others like him—eating from your hand if you were to follow my instructions. It hurts me—no, it _wounds_ me that you distrust me and my talents as much as you do! Do you really believe I don’t have your best interests at heart?!” He’s raising his voice and my ears flatten.

“I-i d-didn’t mean—”

“Of _course_ you didn’t! You only meant you knew better than I do, knew better than someone who has made a successful business out of this for many, many years!”

“I am sorry,” I whisper, unable to look up. He’s going to punish me. I can feel it. It’s been a full three days since my last punishment and I can feel it!

“Do you _want_ to spend the night up in the tower again?!”

“N-no! Please!” I beg, looking up with desperation in my eyes. “I-i was only thinking I-i m-might write him a l-letter, asking him to come, saying I m-missed him?”

Virus glares down at me.

“Perhaps your time might be better spent getting to know the other charity cases and making sure you can obey as we ask you to on the evening of the social. Even after all this time and effort we have spent on you, I worry you may not have it in you to obey!”

“I promise I will! I will do whatever you ask!”

“You don’t even know what will be expected of you yet!”

“If it will get the silver cat to win the auction, I will do whatever it takes!” I certainly can’t imagine anyone else winning me—that would be awful, unbearable—and something I really don’t want to imagine.

“I know he likes his kittens submissive, and you are not exactly the most submissive student we’ve had. And so, _that_ is why I am pairing you with both Aoba and Akira.”

“Do you mean you want me dancing with Aoba?”  
  
“Well, Aoba will dance. You will be, um, on display. And he will demonstrate another talent of yours.”  
  
“Not singing?” I ask. I am a Sanga, after all.

“Well, of course, I plan to start you off with singing. That will make you slightly more compliant, I think. And then, I think I will demonstrate that ability you have with your tail.” 

What ability with my tail? What is he talking about? I must be showing confusion on my face because Virus starts laughing.

“You are so very green. It’s awfully cute. Although—perhaps it makes more sense to pair you with Akira first, since you will have to obey him, and you can’t do that after you sing.”

“What is Akira’s talent?” I ask again. Virus ring a bell at the side of the door, and Trip comes in.

“Trip,” Virus interrupts me. “Bring Akira and Aoba to me, please.” Trip nods and excuses himself. “Let’s just show you. Brush your teeth, Konoe, and wash your hands and face.”  
  
Virus gets up from the table and walks to the wardrobe while I excuse myself to the washroom. I do as I am asked. When I return, Akira and Aoba are in the sitting area, and the sofas have been moved out of the way. I see several pieces of equipment on the coffee table that I find disturbing: a whip, a riding crop, a collar, and a leash.

“Akira, for the social coming up this weekend, I have decided to showcase your talents using Konoe. I want you to do to Konoe what you did to Aoba at the last social. Then, I will have him sing—he is our newest singer, but his talent exhausts him. Then, Aoba will dance, and he will showcase a different talent Konoe has that I will describe in a moment.” 

“Wait— _him_? He’s so small. I might, um, hurt him, sir?” Akira sounds worried. His voice is soft and concerned. “I thought the attraction of my talent was that I am small and it would be surprising to the guests if I could dominate someone larger than me. Won’t it just look like bullying? Sir?”

“I don’t think you will have to hurt him at all—because Konoe is going to be perfectly submissive,” Virus says. “You won’t have to do anything harmful. He’s going to love _everything_ you do to him. He will be in heat, after all. Trip and I would like a sample run-through of what this might look like, to see if it’s even feasible. Konoe, come here and open your mouth.” 

“Sir?” I ask nervously. I obey without hesitating, however, for fear of what other horrible things they have planned for me. Virus shoves a pill in my mouth and hands me a drink of water.

“Swallow.”

I obey, despite the fact that I know he's just given me some sort of aphrodisiac or something to make me more compliant or sedate. Akira and Aoba just watch, their ears lowered.

“What talent is this, sir?” Aoba asks quietly.

“Sit down, shut up, and _watch_ ,” Trip growls.

“Akira, take off your shirt and start, please. The stylist will be arriving tomorrow with your outfit selections. For now, just wear your trousers. Konoe, your job is to do everything Akira tells you. It’s like a game, you see?” Virus explains. “If Akira tells you to touch your nose, you touch your nose—and don’t delay, or you will be punished.” 

I feel a little sick. Why does he have to take off his shirt? And why does he have that whip? Is that to punish me? I'm a little surprised at how quickly that medication is starting to work. My ears twitch when my hearing starts to sound a little strange. Everything sounds echoed, as though the walls in the room are bare.

Akira takes a deep breath with his eyes closed. When he opens them again, his blue eyes look icy and cold. He frightens me. He turns to face me, whip in hand and cracks it in the air. It makes the air around my body shake, and I flatten my ears and bristle my fur. What the hell is this?

"Face the audience, Konoe." His voice is commanding, and there is no doubt in my mind that he is running this show. I don't see any reason to disobey that order so I do as he asks if only to avoid that whip. But his next command surprises me.

“Strip, kitten.”

I freeze in place, looking to Virus. My clothes? He wants me to take off my clothes?

“Sir?” I implore Virus. He can't be serious. Is this really what he is planning for me on the night of the social?

“ _I_ am talking to you. I am your _master_ ,” Akira says calmly. He cracks the whip again, this time, hitting the back of my thigh. I yelp in surprise and at the slim, tight burst of pain. “Now, _strip_.”

Now incredibly frightened and intimidated, I slip off my boots and socks—and quickly.

“Not so fast,” Akira commands. “Slowly—and make it pretty and sensual.”

My fingers are trembling, and I feel tears burning the backs of my eyes. What kind of skill is this? What exactly is Akira’s talent? Intimidation? Once I’ve taken off my boots and socks, I take off my cravat, and I drape it on the back of a chair and I look pleadingly at Virus again.

“ _I_ am your master, kitten,” purrs Akira. “Do you need another demonstration?” He approaches me quickly and grabs my chin, pointing my face up sharply so I meet his frightening gaze. “I won’t ask again. _Strip_.”

Shaking, I do as I’m told, stripping off of my vest and shirt, as slowly and sensually as is possible for as much as my fingers are shaking, draping my clothes over the same chair. Then I take off my belt and wiggle out of my pants. I’m standing in my underwear and undershirt with my fur fluffed out, embarrassed and flushed. The sounds in the room reverberate loudly, and Akira is frightening me. Who _is_ this cat? What sort of talent is this?

“Go on,” Akira says, cracking the whip toward me. My ears and tail twitch in fear, but he doesn’t hit me this time. I pull my undershirt over my head and look up at Akira, not at Virus. This time, I flinch when I see that whip coming toward me again—and it connects with my lower back, catching my tail. It snags my fur right at the base of my tail and it stings. I cry out. I haven't obeyed quickly enough.

I slide my underwear off my hips and cover myself with my fluffy tail, ears burning. A few tears slip down my face. Akira’s cool and collected mask doesn’t change.

“Good boy,” he praises me softly. His words send goosebumps rushing down my nape and spine. What is wrong with me? Is it whatever Virus gave me? “Now, kneel,” he orders.

I obey, grateful to be less exposed. I glance toward my audience and Aoba is not watching me. He is looking at the floor in front of me. He looks _mortified_ for me. Did he have to do this last time? And wait—will I have to do this in front of an _audience_? In front of… the silver cat!? No! I _can’t_! Panic starts rising in my chest.

“W-wait,” I say, my breathing becoming faster. 

“Did I permit you to speak?!” Akira snaps. The whip cracks again and my ass receives an extremely precise snap. I meow in pain and shut my mouth, biting my tongue in the process. Tears leak from my eyes. 

He struts over to me and puts a collar on my neck. I hear the clinking sound of the buckle quite clearly. It's almost as though he is buckling up any last bit of pride with the sound of that buckle.

“It’s pretty on you. You’re so pretty, kitty,” Akira purrs, and he rubs the base of my ears—and his voice makes my fur bristle—his praise is making my fur stand on end and his touch is affecting me below the waist in a strange way. Gods! I'm getting hard! I cannot _believe_ this. I'm so ashamed.

Akira is standing facing the furniture in the room where Virus, Trip, and Aoba are sitting. I feel incredibly embarrassed—naked in front of them—and I am really worried. Is this what they want me to do in front of an entire roomful of guests?

“Excellent, Akira. I may have you go further on the actual night, but for now, that’s enough. Come, take a seat. Konoe, sing for us, please.”

“S-sing?” I stammer. “Sir—like _this_? Now? I-i c-can’t—n-not like this!” Tears stream down my face.

“You know, there are other implements here I can use to encourage your obedience, Konoe. I want you to sing, and I want you to sing _now_. This is how you will sing to entertain the guests at the social. If you can’t perform for us, this small audience, how the hell do you expect to do it for a roomful of guests?” Virus asks, trying to keep his voice calm, but I can hear the anger seething beneath the surface.

“I-i d-don’t know, s-sir, b-but I-i just d-don’t think—”

“I’m not asking you to think!” Virus snaps. “I’m asking you to sing before I lose my temper and my patience!”

“Please!” I cry. “J-just… g-give m-me a moment! I haven’t d-done this b-before!” I cannot imagine being displayed naked in front of a group of people gawking at me— _including_ the beautiful, elegant silver cat—being humiliated—in nothing but a collar…?

And suddenly, my chest starts to hurt—and it aches so much that I think I might split open. I clutch at my skin there with both hands, claws drawn. Akira’s eyes almost glow when my song spills from my body. It starts quietly, but I see him respond before anyone else does, and that is… odd.

The feeling coming across today is utter helplessness, utter humiliation, and a cry for help. My body glows, and the slim tendrils of light that spill off my skin from my body make their way across the floor directly to Akira. He gasps out loud when he touches them with his fingers.

“Akira… Trip, take the whip from the silver kitten— _now_ ,” orders Virus. “It’s a good thing we’ve tried this in advance. Konoe, kitten—you sound beautiful, but can you make your song more general and less targeted?”

“S-sir?” I ask. I don’t know what he means. Less targeted?

“I mean, can you sing for me? Or for Aoba? Rather than for Akira?”

I am not singing for Akira, I don’t think! I don’t understand why the light is creeping up to him in the first place!

But before I can change who my audience is, my song starts to fade out and I lose my energy. I collapse from my knees to all fours and then flatten on the ground in a small ball on the floor, my ears and tail twitching. I feel incredibly vulnerable.

“What _is_ he?” Akira asks. “What _was_ that?” 

“That is Konoe’s most marketable skill. And Aoba will show off another one of his talents. After you dance, Aoba—or before—you will groom his tail—in fact, go ahead now, while he can’t move. See what happens?”

“Don’t hurt him!” Akira says. “Please—don’t!” He sounds very upset suddenly. “I didn’t know—I didn’t know he could do… _that_! I don’t want to do _anything_ to hurt him if he can sing like that, Virus.”

“You don’t have a choice. You will do as I say, or you know to whom you will be given,” Virus replies. “Aoba, go ahead. He becomes paralyzed for a while—he can move his ears and tail, but he can’t move anything else. He’s quite defenseless. Go to him, and see what happens when you groom his tail thoroughly.”

I see Aoba approaching me—and I feel his hands on me—claws running through my fur—and he is so very gentle and kind—and it feels so nice after whatever that was with Akira. Aoba is purring softly.

“Your song was so pretty, Konoe,” he whispers, stroking my ears. “I wish you’d sing for me, too.”

To my utter shame, I start to get incredibly turned on by the caresses on my tail and Aoba’s gentle care. I start gasping, purring, and sighing—and I cannot help myself. I’m afraid I might actually come from his touch, and I start to lose it.

“Hey—Konoe,” Aoba purrs soft and sweet, “I mean, everyone likes their tail being pet, but what is _this_? Are you actually able to, um, _come_ from just this?” 

“Aoba, please,” I beg, nearly unable to form the words, and I have both my elbows pressed on the ground to keep myself from being exposed. I grab his ankle and look up his face. “Please don’t do this.” 

However, he keeps moving his hands, and I get more and more desperate—and I lower my mouth to my arm to silence myself. I would like to bite myself, to distract myself—I do not want to lose it in front of all these people. But I still do not have the ability to move at all—and my breath sounds obscene and vulgar in my own ears—and it turns me on even more!

“Konoe,” Virus says. “You are acting all cute and shy—but really, even you know this is going to increase your value, just as much as that song is, don’t you? So why fight it? Cast your shame aside and _come_. You will be so much more desired. The silver cat won’t be able to resist you once he sees how sensitive you are to touch.” 

I look up at Virus—and I want to give him a defiant look, but he meets my gaze with those cold blue eyes of his and I drop mine to the floor immediately.

“Don’t you give me that look! I could change what Aoba is doing to you to some kind of punishment, involving that riding crop, for instance?” Virus suggests. “So I suggest you comply. Cheerfully and _eagerly_.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, lowering my gaze submissively. I feel additional tears of shame spill from my eyes, but I relax my body and will it to submit to Aoba’s hands. It isn’t long before he puts the hooked tip of my tail in his mouth—and that is what pushes me over the edge.

I do climax—but it isn’t very good. It’s more of a relief than anything else. At least, I’m permitted to come and not left hanging for days or hours after. Sticky white seed spills all over my belly and thighs—because of how I am crouched on the floor—and I still can’t move. I’m still breathing fast and hard when I hear Virus and Trip tell Aoba and Akira to get me cleaned up.

“Will you want us to do this the night of the auction as well, sir?” Aoba asks.

“I’m working on the exact details, but yes,” Virus says thoughtfully.

“Won’t he have some trouble performing if he, well, climaxes on stage and is expected to climax again for whoever wins his auction?” Akira asks.

“He’s young,” Trip says. “He will be just fine. He will be in heat and we will medicate him if someone incompatible wins him.”

"I may have Akira remove him from the stage and clean him up while Aoba dances," Virus ponders aloud.

My ears are lowered as the other two students drag me to the bathing chambers attached to Virus’ room. Akira is really built and strong—surprisingly so—so I wonder why he is even in this situation. Can't he defend himself?

“I’m sorry, Konoe,” he says—and his voice is normal again, back to the flat-sounding soft voice I heard when he was with me at the inn. “Please don’t take it personally. Your best bet is to play as submissive as possible and do what I ask you to do—when that night actually comes. I won't have to punish you then. You’ll make the most when you're submissive that way, and you will go to the cat you desire, I’d bet.”

“How can you be so sure?” Aoba asks. His tone is annoyed, and he's angry.

“What, you can’t look at me and tell me that what _I_ have to do is any worse or any more humiliating than what _you_ have to do to him, Aoba,” Akira growls softly.

Aoba sighs.

“It’s not that. And I am sorry. I’m trying to get him out of this—or part of this—because, in front of an audience of three, it’s one thing, but in front of the houseful we will be having will be something else entirely!”

I still haven’t spoken. I’m exhausted and I’m terrified. I’m also sitting under the showers, leaning up against Aoba on a stool while Akira is soaping up my torso and legs. 

“That song, though…” Akira murmurs. “What on _earth_ was that? I’ve never felt anything so powerful!”

“They said I am a Sanga,” I reply quietly. 

“A Sanga?” Aoba asks. “That’s very rare. I heard that you sing for your talent, but I didn’t know you were a Sanga. The song doesn’t come out of your mouth, either. It comes from your entire body.”

“Oh!” Akira says. “I had no idea. That makes sense.”

I glance at Akira—awkward, of course, after what he has done to me, but his eyes sparkle. “On the night of the auction, you _have_ to try to sing for your silver cat. If you do, he _won’t_ be able to stay away from you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I was ready to attack Virus and Trip, even at risk to myself. I felt full of this latent power I’d never felt before—it was incredible! Such a rush—and I could hear your call for help, Konoe.”

“But… why did you sing to Akira?” Aoba asks, a little sulkily. “He’d just been so cruel to you.”

“I wasn’t,” I said. “At least not deliberately.”

“It’s because I’m a Touga—or was, in my former life. I was told that those who train as Touga can feel the presence of a genuine Sanga. That must be it. And if you like that bounty hunter, you must call out to him. He is a Touga as well. He will hear you and he won't be able to resist.”

“I-i don’t know how,” I confess.

“You’d better learn,” Aoba says. “Because otherwise, you’ll find some other Touga after you and in your bed—or worse—he will purchase you outright.”

“Wait, _what_?” I’ve heard this before—about the innkeeper. Being able to purchase me outright. Is this an option? “I can get out of here?”

“I’ve heard, yes. But I’ve never seen it happen,” Akira says. “And if it were going to happen, it should have happened to you, Aoba. Considering who your first was.”

“He didn’t like me well enough,” Aoba says. "And he couldn't because of who he was and who I am."

Koujaku? I think. Of course, a dance instructor wouldn’t have enough money for this sort of thing. 

“It was the dance instructor, right? He’s handsome, but he wouldn’t have enough money to pay off your debt to the school, would he? Did Virus insist on a bribe as well?” I ask.

“Koujaku is no dance instructor,” Akira says, and Aoba laughs bitterly.

“What? Who is he?” I ask.

“He is the king’s son. He’s a _prince._ He’s probably concerned with the optics of buying a boy from a school. What would his subjects think if my past ever came to light? He bought a _dancer_? A _whore_?” Aoba spits.

I freeze. I know very little about current politics—except that two years ago, the current king died and left one of his sons to rule. He has several sons. How many? I can’t remember. Three? Four? And then I remember what Koujaku told me about Rai.

“Wait. He’s a _prince_? Doesn't the prince have brothers?” I confirm just to check, perhaps I was mistaken.

“He does. I think he’s one of four children. The oldest is our current ruler. He won’t be in attendance, of course. I don’t think any of the other princes have attended our school.” 

“They have,” I say, sighing—and tears burn the back of my eyes. “Oh, they _have_.” I try my hardest to hold back my sobs.

“Konoe? What is it?”

“Koujaku—during that dance lesson last week? He told me that _Rai_ —my silver cat—is his younger brother! I’m going to be _stuck_ here, aren’t I? I have _no_ hope of _ever_ escaping this place. Not _ever_! At least, not with someone I want to be with! Oh, my gods!” I do start sobbing for real now.

“That can’t be true,” Akira says, rubbing my ears gently. “Hush now, Konoe. It will be okay. He really likes you—and Rai is a _bounty_ _hunter_. He’s been coming here a while now, unable to find anyone he likes. Perhaps he’s looking for someone just like you!”

“Yeah, to _fuck_! Just for the night!” I cry. It's exactly as Noiz said, isn't it? Someone to warm his bed? “And then he will _leave_ me here, just like Koujaku did to Aoba, because of… how did you put it, Aoba? _Optics_? I should have known better! I knew it when I first laid eyes on him. He carried himself like royalty.”

I break down into tears, and nothing the other two cats can do will comfort me. They try, however. I have never felt so hopeless.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot development, people. OMG, what plot?
> 
> The stylist pays a visit to the school and takes an instant liking to Konoe--one he does not share. In fact, he is repulsed by the demon's touching, even to the point of offending Virus, who punishes him severely.
> 
> As it happens, singing a song for a Touga even once is enough to forge a bond. Akira shows up later--with information and an offer of help--that's starting to look more tempting every minute.
> 
> Trigger warnings for angst, non-con spanking, nudity, and groping.

I am made to sleep in Virus’ bed that night—again. I am not even permitted to set foot upstairs, and all I want is to see that beautiful bouquet Rai sent to me and to touch the note. My heart is filled with despair. He’s a _prince_ —I know it—he may work as a bounty hunter, but he is one of the king’s sons. I don’t stand a chance with someone like that! What would he want with someone like me? Plain, boring, small, from a small town—a charity case with not a penny to my name and no property and no title. I have nothing.

Then I remember—I do have something. I am a _Sanga_. If I was able to reach Akira, perhaps I might be able to reach other Tougas as well. Perhaps I could target Rai. How would I do that, though? I’m not able to direct my song toward anyone in particular, but perhaps if I imagined him or even fantasized about him while I was singing—perhaps that would help?

But then, I realize I am going to be on a stage, naked, and forced to perform in front of an audience of strangers, or worse, people who have seen me with my clothes on. And I won’t start out naked—I’ll be expected to strip them off myself, of my own will to showcase Akira’s frightful talent.

The next day is exactly one week before the social, and the stylist arrives to arrange our costumes. I’m called into the parlor, along with Akira and Aoba, for a discussion of costumes and to meet him. Both of the other students seem nervous to see the stylist. He’s apparently famous, but I share the feeling as soon as I lay eyes on him.

He’s not a cat.

In lieu of ears on top of his head, he has short, thick horns—like those of a bull—that curl up from his cropped white hair. The black horns stand out obviously from that mop of white hair. He has ears, but they are fleshy protrusions on the sides of his head, no hair on them at all, slightly pointed at the tip. They seem useless to me since they don’t seem like they can move.

There is no hair on his black tail, either—it’s slick as a snake, and it doesn’t move the way a cat’s tail should move. In fact, I have a hard time keeping my eyes off it, because of how it is twitching and swaying around. It’s distracting, and it makes me want to pounce. Also, his eyes are two different colors—one grey and one green—so I don’t know where to look when I am introduced. 

Although—it’s _hard_ not to look right at his bare chest, which is where my eyes naturally point because of my height. He’s wearing a shockingly revealing outfit: a long coat open at the front, trimmed with black feathers and fur, and chaps, also covered with gray fur. He has a tattoo just below his navel, and it looks like an abstract arrow pointing directly to his crotch. Who the hell is this person? He looks so vulgar! I don't want him designing any clothes for me if he's dressed like that.

“Ah, so _you’re_ the new kitten I’ve heard so much about,” he purrs. His voice is deep and it rattles uncomfortably in my ears. He takes my hand and pulls my body in close to his. “Beautiful. Ah—and so soft!” He pets my ears affectionately.

I flatten them against my head and try to push him away.

“Please, um, sir,” I say, trying not to be rude and failing.

“Konoe!” Virus snaps at me. “You must become more comfortable with others touching you. And Verg is our stylist. He needs to know your body type and measurements before he leaves today.”

“You two haven’t changed much. Neither of you has grown since the last social, it seems? Are they feeding you here? Do you want to come home with me?” Verg asks in a seductive tone, looking up at Akira and Aoba. He pulls me down next to him on the couch, and I am incredibly uncomfortable. He continues stroking my ears, which flick down from the touch. “This one is very shy and sweet, isn’t he? What’s your name, kitten?”

“I’m Konoe, sir.” I am struggling not to cry, but I can't express how much I dislike sitting close to him. He feels dangerous and _wrong_.

“This will be excellent practice for him. He may look sweet, but he has _not_ been compliant. He is actually quite willful. Perhaps this is a chance for him to become used to allowing himself to enjoy the touch and affections of others.” Virus lowers his voice and meets my pleading gaze. “ _And_ submit to my commands or suffer the consequences. This and more will be expected of you on the evening of the social.”

I shrink back from Virus’ cold gaze, and Akira and Aoba try not to meet Verg’s eye. He begins discussing costume ideas with Virus, keeping his hands moving on me—dropping from my ears to my nape, then to my shoulders and back, then to my lower back and my tail. That makes me even more uneasy. 

I can’t pay attention to the design ideas because of how distracted I am with the touching and with trying not to shy away or flinch, but after about fifteen minutes, I’m pulled up to stand, right in front of the devil. He pulls me between his legs and traps me there.

“Aoba and Akira, you’re both good to go. You’re excused. Let’s get this luscious kitten’s measurements now, shall we?” 

Verg’s hands—covered in black leather gloves, which is why they felt so weird on my fur—shoot out to my vest and unbutton it, moving quickly and efficiently. Before I know what’s happened, my shirt is unbuttoned.

“Wh-what are you d-doing?” I claw my shirt tightly around my body before it can be removed. “Please, sir!”

“You aren’t just playing coy?” Verg chuckles. “I need to actually see your body, little one, to get accurate measurements for the outfit for you. Don’t you want to be irresistible and attractive for your debut?” 

My ears heat up in a hot blush.

“Look at that—pink ears? Adorable. Do you blush like this all the time or just when you’re attracted to another person?”

An irritated sound escapes my mouth—I’m _not_ attracted to the devil at all. I just have been overwhelmed with his constant, annoying touching and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to take off my clothes! However, I hear Virus behind me.

“Konoe. This is not optional. You will allow him to do his work without further delay or there will be _consequences_.” I hear a heavy tapping sound on the hearth, next to where Virus is standing, and it attracts my gaze. He’s brought that stupid wooden hairbrush with him. Was he expecting me to resist? He’s hoping to punish me! I can see it in his eyes. 

Immediately, I drop my hands and allow Verg to remove my shirt. He pulls my undershirt off as well. 

“You are slim, but you have a gorgeous shape. Are you sure you want him to wear anything at all?” Verg asks, a leer on his lips. I feel disgusted by his words and his comments, and my fur bristles. I try hard not to draw my claws, balling my hands into fists. “Oh, you didn’t like that? It’s a compliment, kitten.” 

He draws his gloved hand across my chest—deliberately touching my nipples, and I shiver.

“Gods, are you that sensitive? And you’re _not_ in heat? What _is_ this?” Verg asks. “Do you have a little experience with pleasure, little one—despite that innocent face of yours?”

I look down and don’t answer, my cheeks and ears burning.

“This will be his first season,” Virus says. “But yes. He is quite sensitive.”

“Take off your shoes, kitten,” he orders. The devil has large fangs, too—and they are always on display. They are frightening.

I sigh softly and unlace my boots and slip them off.

“Lose the socks, too.”

I obey. 

"Let me see your foot for a moment." Verg bends my leg slightly, and I can't tell if he's looking to see how flexible I am or if he's looking at the size of my foot.

“So obedient. What a good boy you are! I wonder, will you be so submissive in the bedroom, too?”

As my eyes are glaring down at my toes, I watch those gloved hands reach for my belt. The metal clinks oddly in my ears. He doesn’t remove the belt. Instead, he unbuttons and unzips my trousers and slips them off my hips, keeping his hands flat as he goes, brushing against my skin as much as possible.

“Turn around.” His orders are clipped, and I obey, standing in my underwear. I need to stop being so embarrassed by my nudity if I will be on display completely naked in front of others in a week. I can't even imagine!

His thumbs hook into the waistband of my underwear and he pulls them down—slowly—much more slowly than he took off any other item of clothing. At this point, I would have rather gotten undressed myself. He’s deliberately touching as much of my body as possible. I’m almost relieved when my underwear is finally removed, though I’m still clenched between the devil’s thighs, feeling that gray fur brush against my bare legs.

“Would you mind if I…?” Verg asks, directing his question toward Virus.

“Go right ahead.”

My tail is grabbed at the base, and I gasp. I’m not sure if it surprises me or if it hurts—but I feel overly sensitive and exposed. And then—I hear a strange zapping sound followed immediately by a painful shock, right at the base of my tail. It shoots all directions—up my spine and into my shoulders, down my legs, and into the tip of my tail, bristling out the fur. I can’t prevent a small, pained meow leaking from my mouth. 

What’s weird, though—is after the initial painful shock, waves of strange, heavy pleasure follow the path of the shock, all pooling in my groin and hips. It makes my fur ruffle, and a nasty-sounding purr escapes my mouth. What is this? It feels _hot_ —like when the silver cat touched me. And it makes my dick stiffen in an instant. 

“Huh. Look at that!” Verg muses. He forcefully turns me around to face him, moving both hands down my sides. I refuse to look at his face for how embarrassed I feel—I can’t even bring my swishing, bristled tail in front of my body to cover myself. I try to cover my nudity with my hands, but he grabs them and shoves my hands to my sides. “You are adorable, kitten. What _are_ you?” Then, addressing Virus over my shoulder, he asks, “What is his talent?”

“He sings.” 

“Oh?” Verg asks. “He’s a sensitive kitty, for sure.” My chin is nudged up slightly, and I meet the devil’s strange gaze for just a second. He is _terrifying._ It feels like he wants to devour me.

_Please don’t leave me alone with him!_

“Are you frightened? Perhaps you should be. Perhaps I will attend the social as well, just to make sure the costumes work perfectly. Plus, you are just my type.”

A shiver of revulsion crawls up my spine and I deliberately look away. To my horror, my tongue indicates my revulsion—making a disgusted clicking sound all on its own.

“Konoe!” Virus snaps. “What the hell was that?! Did you just click your tongue at our guest?! As I said, he is incorrigible.”

“Oh? I found it rather honestly refreshing. He’s no liar, at least. But do what you need to do,” Verg replies. "I can't wait to watch."

Virus grabs my arm, and he bends me over one of the plush chairs in the room. I’m still aroused, my cock pressing into the arm uncomfortably—and I gasp when he presses my body into the chair. He’s really pissed. This is going to be _bad_.

“You really can’t go for more than a day or two without discipline, can you? You’re such a brat. Look at me and listen.” Virus grabs my chin and cranes my neck backward—painfully—so I meet his cold gaze. “You absolutely may _not_ behave like that toward any of the guests next week. I don't care what your feelings are toward them. It's your job to be sweet and compliant and willing. If you do anything else, I will repeat this punishment— _publicly_ —and that will be so much worse for you. It will give whoever wins your auction the idea of punishing you himself because, well, your ass is made for this.”

He releases my chin and I feel tears building up in my eyes. I stare down at the mauve velvet chair, as though the fabric itself might save me from what is coming to me. He has punished me, but he hasn’t used the hairbrush in several days.

“You’d better hook what’s left of your claws into the chair with all your might, kitten. This isn’t going to be pleasant for you. If I see your hands back here, you know it will be much worse.”

I feel him pressing the back of the brush against my ass—and then he begins. He doesn’t warm up, either. He just goes to town on my defenseless body—both cheeks, my sit spot, my upper thighs. The repeated, rhythmic smacking sound is painful and so humiliating. And as I’m trying to take my punishment submissively—unable to keep from crying out after every painful thwack—I realize that my ass is pointed right at Verg, and he is getting a rather nice show.

“Keep both feet on the floor, Konoe,” Virus warns. I realize I’ve been picking up one foot after the other, especially after those hard slaps to my thighs, since moving my legs seems to disperse the pain a little. My tail is bristled at the base but helpless. Tears are running down my face, and in a very little time, the individual cries blend into a constant wail. My ass is burning like it’s on fire, my thighs hurt even more—and yet, my arousal is _building_. I don’t know if it’s because of the blood pooling in my hips or because of that shock, but it’s both humiliating and mortifying.

“Don’t you dare move your hands,” Virus says when he notices one of my hands release its claws. I can’t take much more, but I can't help wanting to protect myself. I dig them into the seat of the chair.

“P-please!” I beg through my tears. “I-i’m s-sorry! Sir! _Please_!” But soon I can’t even form words. I want to protect myself so much, but I know if I do, I will only bring more wrath down on myself and the punishment will be worse.

The hairbrush is worse than the belt—mostly because of how much the pain builds and how long the punishment goes on. I am clawing at the cushion, my knees buckled against the chair, and heaving loud sobs by the time Virus slows the blows. He ends the punishment with four more hard thwacks—one to each thigh, making me scream, one to my sit spot, and one to the center of my ass. 

Once it stops, I am left there—weeping—wanting to rub myself, touch that hot skin—dosomething, _anything_ to soothe myself—but I don’t dare move. I know I am not to move until he excuses me. I continue crying for some time, trying to quiet myself—realizing I’m not as humiliated as I was when he first started. It was simply too painful to suffer humiliation as well. But now, it feels like my ass and thighs are bright red and swollen, and humiliation floods me again. 

“He won’t be comfortable sitting for a while, now, will he? Tell me, is this a regular occurrence?” Verg asks. I feel those gloved hands touching my ass—and I flinch. I didn’t hear him approach—and he’s touching skin that is injured and hot, and all my nerves are on edge.

“It is, unfortunately,” Virus says, and he sounds winded. Gods, did he really have to spank me _that_ hard? I mean, I thought the idea of using an implement was so he wouldn't get out of breath and exhausted. But he really whaled me. “For a kitten as sensitive as he is, you’d think he’d learn a little faster. Although—he’s gotten much more compliant as far as being submissive during the punishment, instead of fighting after each spank.”

“Oh?” Verg purrs in my ear. “I wouldn’t mind a little bit of resistance now and then. It would make things interesting. And this is just lovely, isn’t it? Matches his ears now.”

My ass is caressed and I cry out, biting my lip and struggling to keep both feet on the floor. 

“Please—sir—I’m sorry. _Please_ ,” I beg softly into the cushion.

“Gorgeous pale skin, interesting fur, and this tail—combined with his lithe little form—it gives me some wonderful ideas. I think I’ve got what I need.”

“Wonderful,” Virus says—and I’m left there on the chair, naked, exposed, and in pain. Humiliation is washing over me again, especially when someone else touches my thighs—on the inside, brushing that gloved hand right up in between my legs. I struggle not to push my legs together and remain right where I am. But another small meow leaks out of my mouth. 

“How old is he? He sounds like just a kitten, what with those sweet little sounds. Enchanting.”

“He’s sixteen.”

“Are you sure he’s going to be in heat?” Verg asks.

“He should be. But if he isn’t, we have medications to help him along.”

“I see. I can help as well if you like. I can have a positive effect—like this—” Verg rests his hand, palm flat, against my sore sit spot, and I feel another shock course through my body. It makes my body jump in pain, and I yelp. And then—the waves of pleasure that crash through my body afterward—they are even stronger than the first time he shocked me. If it weren’t so rude, I’d hump the arm of the chair, just to relieve myself. What the fuck is that?! It’s almost a painful pleasure. And I cannot get the image of the silver cat out of my brain, which isn't helping.

“Hmm,” Virus says. “I’ll keep that in mind. He is quite lovely when he’s aroused.”

“There’s something about this kitten—his voice—that intrigues me. You say he sings?” Verg asks. 

“Ah. You’ll have to come to the social for his debut if you want to know more!” Virus laughs, trying to sound mysterious.

“I’ll be there.” Then my ears are licked—and it feels disgusting. His tongue is wet and long—and gross. It’s not a cat’s tongue and it feels nothing like what Rai did to me. “I’ll see you next week, kitten. Save yourself for me and we can have some fun together.”

A shiver of revulsion and fear courses through my body, making my heart ache. What if Rai doesn’t _want_ to see me as the whore Virus is trying to make me into? I might be stuck with entertaining this devil for the night! What would I do?! 

Tears slip down my cheeks—fear, anxiety, shame—yet I remain right where I am since Virus has not excused me. He sees Verg out, leaving the door to the parlor open. Anyone walking past might see me—and my punished ass in all its nude glory.

To my surprise, a soft fluff of silver appears in the corner of my eye. Akira has managed to sneak inside the room the moment Virus left. 

“Gods, Konoe—what the hell did they do to you?!” He sounds devastated. “Let me help you. This is so wrong—you should not be treated like this. You’re something _special_ , you know?”

“N-no—please!” I urge when Akira is bringing me my clothes. “I-i haven’t been excused, and Virus will send me to the tower again or do something worse—punish me publicly—if I move before he excuses me!”

“What?” Akira sounds a little dumbfounded. “That’s ridiculous! I mean, anyone can _see_ you like this, and if he’s trying to protect your—er, well, protect you, this is a really bad idea!”

Tears slip down my cheeks.

“Please—just—go,” I beg softly. There’s a short pause, and I don’t look up from the chair to see what Akira is doing or if he is doing as I’ve asked. 

“I can’t,” he says a little awkwardly. “I, um, I heard your voice and I couldn’t, um, stay away! Konoe—this is _wrong_! We need to get you out of here.”

I feel my ears blushing again. He _heard_ me being punished?  
  
“Were you standing outside the door?” I’m mortified.

“No. I was upstairs in my room. With the window and door closed. I heard you—in my heart more than my ears. I have tried escaping many times, and I know what _doesn’t_ work. I think with my help, I can get you out of here. The old man at the inn? He used to be a Touga as well. Do you think you could sing for him?” 

“I can’t sing _for_ anyone,” I say. “You have to go! Please!”

“Konoe—I _can’t_. You have _no_ idea what your life is going to be like after the debut. Right now, yes, you’re subject to physical punishments. But at least your virginity is being protected. After that first auction, your body will be up for grabs. And you’re… open game.”

I do look up at Akira now. What is he talking about?

“It’s worse than it was with me or Aoba—the talk I hear. I think because Virus punished you in front of everyone on your first day. And possibly because of Noiz—and the incident in history class.”

“When I had to write notes on the board?” I ask. What was wrong with that? Did I do something wrong? 

“Well, it wasn’t because of your notes. Everyone was staring at your ass.” I forget that Akira can be very blunt, and my cheeks heat up at his words.

“Th-that wasn’t my fault,” I say. But now I’m frightened. “So—what can I do? I’ll get punished if I try to protect myself, won’t I? If I fight students off?” 

Akira sighs.

“You will. And the punishments _after_ your debut are much worse than before. They can lend you out for the day or night to various clients with… proclivities. I should know. The fencing instructor is someone you definitely want to avoid.”

I have noticed, I think, that cat, dressed head to toe in black, seemed to have it out for Akira on several occasions.

“What does he do to you?”

“I don’t mean to worry you more than necessary,” Akira says. “But the punishment is meant to break your will. And it’s… effective.” He sighs softly.

Fear grips my chest firmly, creeping up the back of my neck.

“If you’re worried about your debut, don’t be. Much worse is in store for you afterward.”

He _is_ worrying me—probably more than necessary. I feel like I might be sick.

“I-i don’t think I can do this,” I sob.  
  
Akira strokes my ears gently.

“I know. I’ll do what I can. But you need to make sure you don’t give up, either—don’t resign yourself to fate. Promise me?”

Sobbing quietly, I nod my head, but I certainly feel resigned.

“Please, go.”

Another soft sigh from the silver cat.

“They shouldn’t treat you like this. Really. Your existence is rare—hell, even that devil realized what you were. Didn’t you notice?”

Is being a Sanga really so rare? I’ve never even sung for someone in battle. But then I think about it. What if I begged Rai for help? During the social? Perhaps—if I paired with him—he’s experienced and from what I’ve heard, violent. Maybe he’d be able to get me out of there—and he’d actually want to—if my gift is any good. Maybe I could ask him to train me? And maybe I could exchange… my body for training? If it’s him, I can imagine it. He was _kind_. I felt it. Even if he punished me, I know he’d at least be fair.

“Maybe I could beg Rai to get me out of here?” I whisper. “He’s a Touga, too, right? If he’s a bounty hunter? I know I don’t have a chance with a prince, but if he’s experienced and doesn’t have a Sanga, maybe—I don’t know. Maybe I could beg him to train me and get me away from here.” 

“Konoe,” Akira says and pauses for a moment. “He doesn’t have the best reputation. Even I had heard about him when I was training. I didn’t know he was one of the king’s sons. He’s made a name for himself as a hunter—one of the best around, who can hunt even demons—and he is _not_ known for his mercy. Are you sure you can trust him? I mean—I know he sent you flowers, but—”

“Akira, he was _kind_ to me!” I insist. “I know what I felt, and it was kindness. He liked me and was gentle. He didn’t force himself on me or make me uncomfortable—well, I was uncomfortable only because I was so flustered. But I just don’t if I am good enough for him. I didn’t know I was a Sanga. I don’t know if my song is any good.”

“It’s good.” Akira brushes my ears, crouching down next to the chair to meet my eyes. “Konoe, it’s _really_ good. Especially if you have never sung for another Touga before, and you weren't singing for me, it was incredibly powerful.”

“Have you ever heard another Sanga’s song before?”

“Well, no—”

“How do you know it was good, then?!” I feel desperate. “I’m sure the silver cat will be able to tell I’m inexperienced. So I’d be willing to make up the difference however he likes—” 

“Ugh—you can’t be serious!” Akira says. “Don’t start the conversation or relationship that way! You’ll get yourself into a situation you can’t escape!” 

“It’s got to be better than what is going on here!”

“Konoe—it doesn’t, and it might _not_ be. You'll just be getting yourself into another situation like this one! Sometimes the most violent people outside the bedroom are also the worst inside. Trust me on this. You haven’t had the same experience I have—and after mating season, things are completely _different_! It _hurts_. I had a chance to escape with the fencing instructor and I didn’t take it. There’s no way I’d submit my body or my will to his crazy ass whims!”

Akira’s words frighten me even more, but he has to leave before Virus returns.

“I’m sure Virus will be back soon—so please—”

And before I can finish my sentence, Virus’ familiar gait strides back down the hallway. It’s too late.

“What are you doing here, Akira? Don’t you have somewhere to be? I hope you’re not touching this kitten. He’s currently in the middle of a learning process.” 

“I couldn’t help it!” Akira says. “You shouldn’t treat him this way! I could hear his voice—behind two closed doors and closed windows. You’ve got to stop this. He’s _valuable_. What you’re doing to him will destroy him!”

Virus grabs Akira by the arm, yanking him up close, making his fur bristle, but Akira glares right back into Virus’ eyes without hesitation.

“You are not to tell me how to run my own school. Are you itching for another night with Shiki so much? I know he wants you. He’ll be for you at the social. You’ll be _lucky_ if you’re in heat. But if you don’t get your ass back to your room right now, I’ll allow him special access to you beforehand.”

Akira’s ears lower, still bristled—and his tail bristles at the base in fear. I think I even see a shiver. He glances back at me.

“This is wrong. He’s a _Sanga_! You can’t do this—you don’t understand what that song _is_!” And he flounces out of the room. I can hear him stomping up the steps.

“Kitten, if I find out you have ever sung for that kitten again, you will be spending a _lot_ of time in the tower. Do you hear me? That kitten is dangerous, and you’ve done something to him that you _should_ have done to your bounty hunter. It was stupid. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s willful, but never like this. This is beyond ridiculous. It’s unseemly.”

He’s standing with his arms folded, staring down at me, and a few awkward moments pass. I want to get dressed. No—I want to bathe. I want that devil’s scent off my ears.

“Virus, I am sorry. I’ve never seen a devil before and I was scared, sir. I am very sorry for my actions.”

“I’m sure you are. You certainly look sorry,” Virus says.

“May I correspond with the silver cat?” I ask. 

Virus flattens his ears.

“What would you write?” 

“I-i’m afraid he won’t come. I haven’t heard back from him and I want him there.”

“He’s coming. I’ve heard from him, and he will be here,” Virus says. “Don’t worry. You need to trust me, kitten. Trust that I have your best interests at heart.”

That’s incredibly hard for me to do—as I lie here naked, my ass still burning and exposed on this chair. I don’t trust Virus in the least to look out for anyone but his own interests. I suppose if I wrote a letter to Rai, Virus would read it before I had a chance to send it. So I can’t beg for help.

“Yes, sir,” I reply, tasting a nasty bitterness on my tongue. “M-may I bathe? Please, sir?”

He sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You know, if you would obey me and submit to our guests, I wouldn’t be forced to punish you.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” This response is mechanical, now—almost automatic. I hope it doesn’t sound as insincere as I mean it, or he will beat me again.

“All right. Get dressed and bathe in my chambers. Put on a robe, then see me in the office. I’ll treat your skin so it doesn’t do permanent damage.”

I wince—thinking of him putting his hands on me again. As well as his skin treatment, which is going to hurt like hell. But I’m relieved to be able to bathe. I still don’t move, though. I know better. I know to wait till I’m excused properly. And he is waiting a long time to do it. I still feel his eyes on me.

“You’ll do much better after your debut. I think you’ll be much less frustrated, Konoe. I know _I_ will be.” He sighs again. “You’re excused.” 

Without looking up, I pull on my clothes as quickly as possible—and the fabric stings when it touches my skin. Even while I’m getting dressed, I can’t help thinking about Virus’ words. I’ll be less frustrated? And _he_ will be? Shit—is _he_ planning to fuck me, too? The thought revolts me, and that bitter taste of fear rises to my mouth again.

Gods. I have to get out of here!

For now, all I can do is bathe—and that’s what I do.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day, Konoe receives a surprise visitor, who provides him with much-needed comfort.
> 
> Finally, a fluffy chapter, because Rai can't help it.

The rest of the day—Saturday—is miserable. Bathing hurts my skin, and Virus' personal treatment is painful. Because I submit to his care, I am, however, permitted to rest till dinner—during which I am kept away from the other cats. I’m made to entertain Virus, who continues teaching me conversation and manners.

I’m sick of it, and sick of that cold blue gaze, peering down at me disdainfully.

Of course, I can’t say that. I’m exhausted after dinner, and Virus lets me go to bed—in his room, though I ask if I might be permitted upstairs. I want to see my bouquet, but I’m not allowed to be exposed to other students. He doesn’t punish me for asking, fortunately, and says tomorrow will be another intense day of training.

Sunday morning, after serving breakfast on my best behavior, both Trip and Virus have me practice dance lessons for three hours. They recruit Aoba for help, and dancing with him is much more pleasant than having either Trip or Virus touch me.

Trip has been giving me sideways glances all morning, making me nervous. But I absolutely _cannot_ take another spanking today, and my feet are exhausted. I’m permitted to rest in Virus’ room—again, segregated from the other students—to read the paper.

I hear a horse galloping up outside, and I don’t think much of it. It’s the weekend, after all, and some students have had visitors. But I’m shocked when Trip fetches me from lounging on the couch in Virus’ room and says _I_ have a visitor.

Of course, my hopes are lifted. I’m hoping it’s the silver cat—but I try not to think about it too much as I lace up my boots and straighten my uniform—and yes, I fix my hair and my fur, preening in front of the mirror briefly.

“Virus gave me this for you. Take it.” Trip has a pill in his hand, and I give him a strange look. “You can fight me if you want, but you are going to take it.”

I sigh, resigned, and take the pill and swallow it with the glass of water he presses into my hand.

“Open your mouth,” he commands gruffly. Is he actually checking to see if I swallowed it? Jeez. I obey, letting him press his finger around inside my mouth.

“Good boy. Now, don’t make him wait,” Trip growls at me, ushering me to the parlor.

When I’m pushed inside the room, the smell of winter floods my nose—freshly fallen snow and pine, mixed with something else—and my fur bristles. My body recognizes the scent before my mind realizes who it is, and I’m filled with anticipation and nerves. My eyes land on the tall, slender cat who stands up from the couch. My body floods with joy at the sight of him.

“Good afternoon, kitten,” the low voice purrs from the silver cat— _my_ silver cat—Rai. No, that would be _Prince_ Rai, who also happens to be a bounty hunter. His voice makes my fur bristle in my ears, and I can’t help staring at him. I hate to think about how I really do not possibly stand a chance with him. He’s so gorgeous.

“G-good afternoon, sir,” I manage, stepping up to him and taking his hand.

He surprises me again, flustering me like he did the last time we met, planting a featherlight kiss on the back of my hand. My ears and cheeks heat up, and I’m so unnerved I forget to bow.

“This is for you, Konoe.”

He hands a single red rose, which I take carefully. The blossom is as big as my fist, and the flower is simply perfect. It smells wonderful, too—and oh, my gods, he just gave me a flower in _person_!

“Oh—um, thank you, sir—so much,” I say, unable to keep myself from blushing almost as deep in color as the rose. Daring to glance up to his face—and he is watching me intently with that gorgeous pale blue eye—I add, “Thank you so much for the lovely bouquet you sent as well. I’ve never seen such beautiful flowers.”

Rai’s soft expression breaks into a gentle, pleased smile.

“I’ll have this put in water for you, Konoe. Rai will be taking tea with you this afternoon,” Trip says. “Why don’t you show him around the gardens until then?”

The gardens? We have gardens?

Oh, right—I can see them from my window, but I haven’t gotten a chance to explore them myself yet, as I'm not allowed outside. I look at him solicitously—mostly to get him away from Trip, I think, curling my tail questioningly. I glance at the clock and it’s only 2 PM. Tea is usually served at 4 PM. Do we have two hours to ourselves? A flash of anxiety rushes through my body when I remember what Virus said about what would be expected from me, in thanks for that bouquet.

“That sounds lovely,” Rai purrs softly, taking my arm and pulling me out of the room behind him. His stride is long and graceful, and the fluffy white tail sways behind him temptingly. I long to touch it, but I don’t dare. Especially not now that I know who he is, and also because I don’t think I can do what is expected of me.

He’s leading the way through the downstairs, out the backdoor, and down the steps—as though he knows this place better than I do.

“Are you an alumnus? You know your way around better than I do, sir,” I ask softly, once we get outside. I’m following him toward the arbor that leads to the garden. It’s a densely wooded area and it’s quiet and peaceful. At first, I was relieved to be sent outside instead of that bedroom downstairs. Because if we are outside, I won’t be able to do that thing that is expected of me. But this place is awfully isolated and quiet. 

I can’t remember the last time I was outside—except when Virus belted me in front of the entire student body—and that memory isn’t pleasant. I push it out of my mind. It feels nice to have warm light shining down on my fur. 

“I am. My brothers and I were sent here for our education years ago,” Rai answers, slowing his pace and pulling my arm up alongside his body. He said "brothers." So for sure, more than just Koujaku. He matches my pace, his leg brushing against mine when we walk.

Gods, I’ve forgotten how beautiful he is—even more gorgeous outside in natural light—and how nice he smells and how nice his voice sounds like it’s meant for my ears. My heart starts to race, and I feel terribly nervous. What am I supposed to do for two hours with him? Surely, this can’t be what Virus was talking about—when he said I would be expected to “thank him” using my body, is it? Not if we are outside?

I don’t feel any expectations or demands from the cat walking next to me, but he looks down at me occasionally as we walk along the garden path.

“I wonder if it’s still there,” Rai wonders.

“What?” I ask, so distracted that I forget my manners. I don’t even call him "sir."

“When I went to school here, there was a small grove just outside the garden. It’s a lovely place to sit and chat.”

Did he come all this way to sit and chat with me, I wonder? I don’t argue—and I definitely won’t complain—but my mind is filled with questions.

“Are you planning to come to the social on Saturday?”

“I am,” he says, and he meets my eye briefly. “I want to be there for your debut. I hear your studying has been going well.”

“Have you?” I ask, unintentionally letting my voice fall in embarrassment.

“You disagree?” He asks. “I heard from my brother that you are quite the dancer.”

So it's true, then. Koujaku _is_ his brother—it’s officially confirmed. 

“I have a very good teacher,” I answer quietly.

“I can’t wait to see for myself.” He has led me past several lovely rosebushes and I hear the sound of flowing water. It really is pretty out here.

“Will you, um, be staying for the entire evening?” I ask as delicately as possible, keeping up my pace and not looking at him. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to discuss the evening, nor if I even _want_ to discuss it.

Rai stops walking, and of course, I stop as well. He turns to face me and tips up my chin to meet his gaze. 

“Would that be all right with you?” His voice is quite serious.

Is he asking my permission? Surely—he’s a prince and he can do what he likes. He can’t know what _actually_ goes on here, can he? Or wait—if Koujaku was Aoba’s first, perhaps he learned about it from Koujaku? This entire situation is awfully strange.

“I would like that very much,” I say, somewhat nervously.

“Good. I’m glad.” He continues walking—toward the sound of water. Soon, the greenery opens up to a larger grove of trees—some are fruit trees, I think—many in bloom. The smell is soft and floral, delicate and sweet—and a sparkling stream meanders along the edge of the property. “Ah, it hasn’t changed.” 

“It’s lovely,” I muse—and it’s gorgeous—but what makes it perfect is that he is here with me now. It's very warm, I realize, and I loosen the cravat at my neck to breathe a little easier.

“Come, sit with me,” he urges. He is dressed in black today—except for the crisp white shirt underneath a black silk vest. Still military inspired, I think when I look at his outfit. Does he serve in the military? Is that part of his job?

I follow him toward the edge of the river, and it sounds lovely—like a song—ringing in my ears.

“D-do you know I am, um, a charity student?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the water, watching it flow gently and listening to its soft babbling.

He lowers himself to the ground abruptly and pulls me down beside him. We are awfully isolated out here. He could probably do anything he wanted to me and I wouldn’t be able to resist or get away. The thought shivers through my mind for a moment—especially when I hear the clanking of his sword and dagger as he sits down.

I’d say I was frightened—but after the week I have had, and the week I have ahead of me, I can think of much worse things: being here alone with Trip, or Virus, or Verg, or Arbitro, for example. The fear is _enticing_ , in fact. But I start to worry—am I supposed to just "serve” him, as Virus and Trip taught me in the tower? Or do I wait for him to say something? I don’t know the etiquette. Isn’t it rude to touch royalty without express permission? But he’s touching me right now, and I don't dislike it.

I decide to wait and let him make the first move—and just as I come to my decision, he answers me, brushing his fingers through the fur on my ears, stroking them gently and tenderly—I feel kindness flowing from him.

“I know, yes. It’s one of the reasons I asked if you were all right with me coming to your debut.”

Wait just a moment. Does this mean he _knows_ what will happen to me? Also, am I really okay with him seeing me strip in front of a roomful of strangers? And letting him watch Aoba pleasure me on stage? I shiver in disgust (but is it disgust, really?) at the thought—so I look up and find him watching me intently. He looks almost excited, a heated expression in his eye.

“I also heard that some aspects of your training might not be going so well.”

“Oh?” I say, trying not to sound strangled.

“Koujaku mentioned you looked exhausted and afraid. When we met I wouldn’t have used either of those words to describe you.” He tips his head to the side briefly, studying me closely. “I would have described you as fiery and willful. You _do_ look exhausted.”

Is that a compliment? I don't know.

“I, um, am doing my best. For your sake,” I blurt accidentally. It’s true, of course—the only reason I haven’t tried to run away is because of him, but I didn’t intend to say it out loud!

“For my sake?” Rai asks, those small white ears perking up cutely on top of his head. “Now I’m intrigued.” 

“I, um, admired you when I first met you,” I say quietly, unable to return his gaze. “And you were very kind. I thought that, um, if I could impress you, you might offer to train me yourself.”

“Train you? How very bold.” He laughs softly—and I realize that isn’t what I meant. “Do you dislike the way Virus runs the school? Has he been cruel to you?”

“Sir, I don’t know how to answer that,” I say. Why is it so warm out here? My body feels quite sweaty.

“You can be honest, kitten. I was a student here myself, many years ago.”

“But—aren’t there some things I shouldn’t tell you? Because of who you are?” I ask delicately. “Sir?” I add it at the last moment, realizing I haven’t been very good with my manners. Why is it so easy to be comfortable around him?

“Who I am?” Rai purrs quietly, still amused. “And who do you think that might be?”

“Well, aren’t you, um, one of the late king’s sons?” I ask, my voice even quieter. I’m afraid to look at him.

“If I were, wouldn’t you call me ‘Your Grace’?” 

My fur fluffs out suddenly—when I realize the faux pas I’ve just made. I _should_ be calling him Your Grace! 

“I-i’m s-so sorry,” I stammer. “I-i have b-been terribly d-disrespectful—Your Grace,” I add.

Rai smiles widely, showing his fangs—pearly and white and sharp.

“Perhaps I can think of something you might do to earn your forgiveness.”

“Please—I d-didn’t mean to disrespect you!” I’m very anxious now, and I can’t seem to settle my fur.

“Then… close your eyes for a moment, kitten.”

I obey without a second thought, and something soft brushes my chin. His hand, maybe? It tips my head up a little, and then something even softer (and warmer) touches my lips. It’s a lovely sensation but surprising!

My eyes pop open—making all the hair on my body stand on end, shivering down my spine, bristling my tail. His face is so close—and I think—I’m pretty sure—he just _kissed_ me!

He pulls away from me, keeping his fingers on my chin, stroking it gently. Each touch sends a rush of pleasure into my belly and hips—like I’ve swallowed a butterfly. _Hot_.

“You are very sweet,” Rai purrs softly. He taps my nose gently with the finger of his other hand and then releases. I am not sure I’m done kissing him yet!

“I apologize, sir,” I say softly.

“I didn’t say anything about it when I first met you, did I?” Rai asks, gently. “If I had wanted you to call me that, I would have mentioned something earlier. 'Rai' is fine. In fact, I’m about to ask you to drop the ‘sir,’ too.”

“I may be punished if I don’t call you ‘sir,’” I say, lowering my eyes.

“They’d punish you for that—even if I gave you permission?” Rai seems slightly surprised.

I realize I shouldn’t have said anything about punishments. What if he asks about them?  
  
“I j-just w-want to show you respect, sir,” I say softly.

“Is the training here cruel?” Rai asks directly. “Is that why you’re asking me to train you instead?”

“Ah—actually, I meant, um, when I thought you were a bounty hunter,” I say quietly.

“I _am_ a bounty hunter. Much more a bounty hunter than a prince, in fact,” he replies thoughtfully. “Are you interested in that trade?”

“N-not exactly, though I do have some experience with a sword,” I say. “It’s because of my talent.”

“Oh? And what is your talent?” He lowers his face toward mine a little as he asks—and it really feels like he’s interested. 

“I can sing,” I reply. Rai gives me an odd look. “I-i’ve been told I’m a Sanga. You are a Touga, right? So perhaps you could help me train?”

“A Sanga?” Rai asks, both his eyebrows lifted. “I had a feeling there was something special about you when I first laid eyes on you—and even more when you opened your mouth for the first time. You do have a captivating voice.” 

“D-do you already have a Sanga?” I ask hopefully.

“I don’t. I’ve never paired with one. In fact, in my line of work, they are incredibly rare. Has someone confirmed that you are indeed a Sanga? Someone who knows?”

“Well, just Virus,” I answer.

“I see. Will you be performing this talent on Saturday?” He is interested, though—I can tell by the way his tail is moving and how his ears look. 

“Y-yes,” and I lower my face again. “B-but I will also be subjected to humiliation. Um, I d-don’t think I am s-supposed to talk about it.”

“Humiliation?” He probes gently. “You feel like you will be humiliated?”

“Yes!” I admit. “Saturday, I am afraid I will come across as some _thing_ to be used, and not the cat that I am.”

Rai sighs softly.

“It’s possible you may feel differently when the time comes. It’s almost mating season, after all. I assume this is your first?”

“Yes. But I don’t know what _that_ has to do with anything,” I say in a huffy tone. But I look up at him questioningly again.

“It’s, um, hard to put into words,” Rai says, and it looks like he is trying not to smile. “But trust me when I tell you it’s possible you might feel different on Saturday.”

“I don’t believe it,” I mutter disagreeably, and then Rai actually does laugh in response.

“I had heard you were willful, but I didn’t know you were argumentative, too.” He runs his fingers through the fur on my ears. It feels incredible—even better than it did that first day we met when he touched me. Only then does it occur to me: is it because of that pill Trip fed me? “You have such lovely fur.”

I’m not sure how to respond to the compliment—especially coming from him. I mean, he’s a long-haired white cat, and that is incredibly rare. His skin is pale and perfect, his remaining eye is a gorgeous blue, framed with long, thick lashes—and he has the most attractive face and body I have ever seen. I have an urge to touch his tail, and it continues flicking around in the grass. I've never felt this way about another cat before.

“I’ve been unable to get you off my mind since I met you last week,” Rai states bluntly.

What? Really? I mean, Trip said he came to see me, but a part of me believes he is here on some other business and I just happened to be available.

“Did you really come to see me?” I ask.

“I did. I wanted to get a chance to talk to you—and check if you would be agreeable to accompanying me on Saturday.” His words sound strangely vague.

“I’d love to, but I think I will be expected to serve all the guests,” I say, deliberately not referencing the auction. “I think I may be the only one debuting. I’m not exactly sure what to expect.”

“I know about the auction.” 

“Oh. You do?”

“I received an invitation to attend both the social and the private auction afterward. However…” his voice trails off for a moment and he looks over my shoulder at the water for a moment before continuing. “I wanted to be sure my advances would be welcomed.”

My ears and tail twitch in confusion. Again, it sounds like he is asking for my permission or consent, and I don’t understand this. It was my understanding that my virginity was being auctioned off to the highest bidder, and I had no say in it whatsoever.

“What’s wrong?” Rai asks. “You don’t want me to bid on you?”

“Oh—that’s not it—I mean, I would love it if you did! But I was under the impression that I don’t have a choice in the matter. I haven’t had any choices since I’ve been here—except for how quickly to do as I’m told, and it’s never fast enough.”

“I am very patient,” Rai purrs softly—and his mouth is suddenly quite close to my ear. “And if it were you, I think I might be a good teacher.”

The very idea of the silver cat teaching me _anything_ is incredibly hot and arousing. Even his voice has turned me on since the first time I heard it. And I think he is offering to teach me something in the bedroom. But isn’t he a prince?

“Are you allowed to do this?” I ask. “Aren’t you a prince?” 

“I am a prince and am allowed to do what I like and whom I please,” he answers low in my ear again, licking the tip just gently when he’s finished speaking. It sends a visceral shiver down my back into my tail. The sensation doesn’t disappear, either—it pools in my waist like when that devil shocked me.

“Whom?” I ask. I notice he didn’t say, “ _with_ whom,” but only “whom.” Huh. “Then why are you asking me?”

“I want to be sure you’re interested—and not too frightened of me. It wouldn’t be fun if you were interested in someone else. I don’t enjoy that sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?” I ask, almost breathless from the touch on and in my ear.

“Stealing the first sexual experience of someone who is unwilling—that isn’t my cup of tea,” Rai says.

Oh, my gods. He just said the word “sexual.” Like out loud. Holy shit. And I am being so immature about this. Why does it all sound so hot?

“You _do_ realize what is being auctioned?” Rai asks.

“Of course, I do,” I say. “The winner gets to spend the night with me.”

“That’s technically true. However, it’s your _first_ _time_ that is being auctioned—your virginity. That is why Virus so kindly waits till mating season, so it is less painful and more pleasurable for you and your guest as well.”

“Are the others not going to be auctioned?” I ask. Is it really just me? It can’t be.

“I’m sure the others will be as well, but some cats are willing to pay a premium for another’s first experience. You wouldn’t mind if I were the one stealing your first time?”

“N-no,” I say, tilting my head a little to escape the soft whisper in my ear. “I-if you would like to, then yes, I would be willing.”

“That isn’t what I asked,” he purrs softly. “I asked if you _wanted_ to be with me? In that way?” 

“Y-yes,” I say quietly, looking down at the hands in my lap.

“And not because someone has ordered you to say this or obey me?” Rai confirms.

“N-no. This is my own will. I think you are kind. And I think you are beautiful,” I breathe softly, shocked at the words that are coming out of my mouth, and my chin is nudged again softly. 

Once again, soft lips brush my top lip and then playfully nip my bottom lip. The nip frightens me a little, and then he presses both his lips to mine and touches my jaw with his fingers. It encourages me to open my mouth, and a lovely sound escapes that I didn’t know I could make. It’s a musical-sounding sigh, and it sounds eager, and a little desperate and pleading. My eyes are half-lidded and I see his fur bristle at the sound.

Rai’s tongue explores the front of my teeth, the tips of my fangs—he's hot!—isn’t he afraid I might bite? He strokes the back of my throat and pulls me in closer to his body, tipping my chin to the side with one hand and placing the other on my nape to cradle my head.

It feels so nice! No one has treated with me such tenderness since I’ve been here, and it’s almost heartbreaking.

For now, I just allow myself to be kissed—submitting to the touch. I feel like I am melting into his body—he is absorbing me with his warmth and heat. He moves from delving into my mouth to soft kisses on my lips and jaw, trailing down my throat.

When I feel him on my throat, my body jerks excessively. I’m not sure if it feels threatening or aggressive—but I think it does, just a little. Showing your throat to another cat implies submission, but I don’t really mind that feeling. I reach out and grab his silky hair in my hands—and his soft rounded ears are right in front of me. Tentatively, I tilt my head just enough to lick just the tip of his ears, and a warm sensation floods my chest. He feels soft—and I lick a little more. His ears are much thicker than mine—and they probably don’t turn inside out as easily. His fur is thick and silky, surprisingly—whereas mine feels much downier. I wonder if he gets plusher with a winter coat?

I am humming and sighing softly into his ears as I kiss and groom them gently, even daring to insert my tongue and delve deep inside. He is allowing this touch. A wave of shock goes through me when I realize I’m actually sitting here making out with the prince! 

My shirt is untucked from my trousers, making me shiver, and the buttons of my waistcoat are unbuttoned. His hands come up suddenly against my stomach, underneath the fabric of my shirt. He’s touching my belly and stroking the soft fur just beneath my navel, which should tickle and doesn’t. It doesn’t tickle at all. It makes me feel breathless and desperate, and the touch in itself is surprising and warm. His hands are large and he has callouses on them from holding his sword—on _both_ hands. Does he wield the dagger at the same time, I wonder—in his left hand?

“You are so wonderfully responsive,” he murmurs softly, kissing my lips again. “And I love the sound of your voice.”

My voice! That’s right—I could sing for him… perhaps… maybe in a few minutes, but I am too busy enjoying these new sensations rippling over the surface of my skin. I want to touch his tail, too—stroke it—and feel the warmth of his skin against mine, but I’m too shy to undress him. Isn’t that rude? To touch the prince or undress him? I couldn’t possibly—not while we are out in the open!

I am getting overwhelmed and rather worked up from this kissing and soft caressing alone. Maybe it’s because I haven’t felt anything tender in such a long time—and a feeling wells up inside me. It’s a mix of joy and sadness—real grief—because I know he will leave soon. My heart starts to ache terribly as the emotions swell. My skin is sweating—his, too—and his scent gets even stronger.

Something has to be done with these emotions or I may start to cry. I just am enjoying this small kindness—tenderness—so much that I never want it to stop. I have felt alone and struggled alone—even with Aoba and Akira alongside me—and this touch soothes me and calms my fears.

I feel grateful. I also want him to know that I want him to touch me even more. And I want to touch him.

The warmth inside my chest finally spills over like water into the rest of my body. Before I know what is happening, a soft warm light spills out and I start to glow. It’s hard to see the light at first—the moon of light is bright right now—but I know what is happening when my bones start to creak. My flesh vibrates gently, my skin shivers with the song, ruffling up every hair on my body.

I am singing for Rai, even without my intention to do so.

The song expresses what I want to tell him—that I want him here, I want to _stay_ with him—as well as my deep desire for his touch and his kindness.

The moment my song overflows from my body, Rai’s ears perk up and he pulls away from where he is currently kissing my throat. That icy blue eye sparkles with warmth and excitement, and the fur on his tail bristles behind him, as it flicks back and forth.

“My gods,” he whispers. “You _are_ a Sanga!”

Now, when I touch him, slim tendrils of light flow from my fingers to his body—even when we don’t touch directly, it feels like a physical touch to me. Can he feel it, too? While my feelings are now revealed and no longer desperately trying to escape the confines of my body, I feel dreadfully exposed—almost as though I have been stripped bare before him. It’s as if my soul has been stripped down to its essence.

I didn’t choose to sing. It feels as though he pulled the song from me.

He is listening, a soft smile on his face, shivering occasionally when his hands connect with my skin or my fur. To my surprise, I feel a gentle tug on my tail, the base brushed lightly against the growth of the fur. It feels so comforting and adoring it takes my breath away, and I gasp in response. I move in closer to him, climbing boldly on top of his lap, kneeling over him and pressing my nose to his shoulder and neck to breathe in that reassuring scent. I feel his erection when I press my body against his, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he can feel my excitement, too. He hums, the vibration moving through his body and accenting his deep rumbling purr, making my purr wetter and stronger.

I dare to kiss him now, as I’m straddling his lap—and I carefully put my hands on either side of his face and kiss his lips separately before letting my tongue run across his teeth and sharp fangs. One of my hands slides into his hair—letting silky silver strands slip through my fingers—while winding my other arm around his neck. He allows me to explore inside his mouth, and his tongue feels muscular and lean, just like the rest of his body. 

But… what is the meaning of this? What we are doing here? This caressing and touching and kissing?  
  
Is it only to satisfy my desire or his lust? Because it feels like something more to me. I want to _stay_ with him—and I want him to take me out of here. And he won’t be able to do that—at least, not today. He might not ever be able to do this. He’s a prince and I’m a simple cat from Karou.

Tears spill down my cheeks and I pull away.

“Oy, what’s wrong?” He whispers into my ear, dropping another kiss at the tip. Just that touch sends a ripple of indulgence down my spine and bristles my tail. My song starts to fade, and his ears look like they are straining to hear it. 

“N-nothing,” I reply.

“Don't cry. Do you want me to stop? Am I frightening you?”

“N-no, n-not at all! I-i just d-don’t want you to go!” The words come out in a soft whimper, and I’m ashamed of my tears. A powerful feeling of relaxation starts to flood my body, and my limbs get very heavy. “I’m s-sorry. I know better than that.” 

“Kitten, don’t cry,” Rai says. “I find you enchanting—captivating—and I would give _anything_ to be able to take you home with me today.”

I sigh softly, looking up at his face. His words are tender—but does he mean what he says?

“You do realize, though, that isn’t possible today.”

I sigh heavily as my body starts to become paralyzed from the efforts of my song. I know Aoba’s story about Koujaku. Of course, Rai wouldn’t be able to get me out of here, either. I understand this. He’s a prince, for gods’ sake—and I am no one of consequence.

He chuckles softly.

“I’ll be here for you on Saturday, kitten.”

I quake a little, thinking about the social.

“I’m afraid you won’t like me after that event,” I admit quietly.

“Why would you say that?” He is moving my body gently as I melt against him. He seems to realize I am exhausted after the effort of my song.

“J-just—the evening that i-is planned—it’s _vulgar_. I’m going to be displayed in an obscene way, like some prize pig, and I’m afraid you won’t like me after I am used in that way.”

That is my greatest fear. 

“Konoe,” he says, tipping my chin up to meet his eye. “If I could stop what Virus is planning, I would. But know that I don’t blame you for any of this. I know what this school was like when I went here—and cases like yours have been treated this way for a long time. Don’t worry so much. I’m sure you will captivate me—as well as the rest of your audience.”

He kisses me again—gently—on the lips.

“Listen. That song of yours is gorgeous. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep, but know that you have one supporter regardless of what you are made to do on Saturday.”

Promises? Is he thinking of taking me with him? A soft sob escapes my mouth.

“What if—?”

“Don’t worry about it. There is nothing you could be made to do that would make me hold you in any less regard. So relax. Here, why don’t you lie down for a little while? Stretch out your legs and rest.” 

He presses me down in the grass and pulls my head into his lap. A sense of deep relaxation and paralyzing exhaustion covers my body. I am so weak!

“There you go. Now, close your eyes and rest.”

We spend the next hour in the grass, me opening my eyes every once in a while to see if he is actually still here, and him running his claws through my hair and my fur, massaging the base of my ears. A deeply contented purr escapes my mouth and I’m _relieved_ to be here with him—even just at this moment. Perhaps it won’t serve me to worry about the future. It’s all right to enjoy this moment with him, right now.`


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rai stays for tea, and Konoe is praised for his good behavior. Virus rewards him with the rest of the afternoon off after Rai leaves. There is a certain student, however, who is not pleased with Konoe's behavior--especially not the fact that he sang for the prince.
> 
> Trigger warning: non-con sexual activities due to drug (catnip) influence

We make it back to tea by four. I’m able to move on my own again by then, of course, and I serve Rai tea the way Virus has shown me the past few days. He is watching me like a hawk, and I find his presence to be more disconcerting than supportive. 

Strangely, Akira is watching me as well—and closely. And his face isn’t neutral. He looks really upset. Aoba keeps pulling at his sleeve and whispering to him, encouraging him to stay in his seat. But I’ve never seen the young silver-haired cat quite so agitated before. I wonder what is bothering him.

Rai and I have a pleasant conversation over tea—and since it’s a performance, Rai is careful not to put pressure on me. He touches my hand several times, which makes me ruffle up my fur. Also, he brushes my legs under the table with his legs. He has amazing long legs—and he feels free to wrap them between mine underneath the tablecloth. It’s sweet and endearing, almost like he is supporting me out of view of Virus and Trip.

Once the tea is finished—about 45 minutes later—and yes, the prince has attracted the sight of every student and staff member of the school, he stands up to leave. My heart feels like it’s breaking just a little bit. I don't want him to go. 

Virus walks over to the table.

“Thank you for joining us today, Rai. We’d love to have you anytime.” 

I bow my head politely, and Virus pinches the soft flesh on the inside of my upper arm. I try not to yelp, but I assume this means I need to speak.

“Um. Y-yes, sir. Thank you so much for honoring me with your presence.” 

“The honor and pleasure was mine, kitten. I look forward to seeing more of you on Saturday.”

Gods, he has no idea how _much_ more of me he will be seeing on Saturday. I feel my ears blushing at the very thought.

“Ah—and for the rose, too, sir.” I grasp his hand and look in his eye in an unguarded moment. “Thank you so much. It’s just gorgeous.”

“Pretty flowers for pretty kittens,” he smiles softly, the tips of his fangs poking over his lips. Seeing them reminds me of what we were doing earlier out there by the river. _Hot._ I want to kiss him so much right now, but of course, that would be unseemly. However, Rai kisses the back of my hand. And to my utter surprise, he pulls me in close to him—in front of everyone standing there—and licks the tip of my ears and whispers sweet words into them. “You smell delightful. I can’t believe I will have to wait six days to see you again. I can hardly stand it.”

His whisper sends a little shiver down into my neck and spine, ruffling up my fur in its wake, leaving my ears and cheeks pink. Did he just breech etiquette for the sake of making me feel desired?

I am finding it very difficult to meet his gaze, and am staring at his fancy leather boots instead. He lifts up my chin, nudging it gently. I instantly look up at his lovely face, feeling a purr deep within my chest. 

“You’ll sing for me again, won’t you?”

“Of course, sir!” I say eagerly.

"I look forward to hearing your lovely voice." He smiles—almost sadly—and Virus sees him out, chatting away happily. I wait, watching his back as he leaves, that long, white tail swaying back and forth gently. I would give anything to grab onto that tail and groom it—never letting it go. But I remain standing for as long as I can. Rai turns around to tip his hat when he leaves.

Soon, Virus appears again at the top of the stairs.

“Konoe.”

My ears perk up anxiously. It’s almost never good when he says my name, but he looks pleasantly surprised.

“You did well this afternoon. You left our guest very pleased with you, and therefore, I am giving you the rest of the afternoon off to do as you like. You’re free to roam the grounds if you wish. I’ll see you in my chambers for dinner at seven.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say, lowering my gaze humbly. I let out a huge sigh of relief and head back out into the garden. I’m surprised to hear someone hot on my heels, though. I look behind me and it’s Akira. “Wha—?”

I don’t even get a chance to ask what he wants. He just yanks my arm and pulls me in another direction, down a different path. I had been heading back to the river where I spent the afternoon with Rai. I had been planning to return there to bask in the memories of kissing and gentle touching, but my plans have been interrupted by Akira’s ideas.

“Shut up,” he says. He’s _angry._ What did I do?  
  
“What’s wrong?” I ask, somewhat nervously. Akira isn’t much bigger than me, but he is in much better physical condition. And he is definitely pissed. I wonder if he didn’t know Rai was interested in me, and perhaps he _also_ had his eyes on the silver cat. That wouldn’t surprise me since many students like the prince. But there isn’t much I can do about it now.

“Akira, what is it?” I ask again. “Rai came to see me—I didn’t have much control over that.”

“Shut up,” he repeats. “Don’t speak.”

He is dragging me along behind him, walking fast—and I realize we are still on the school property but in an area I haven't yet explored. We are in a dense forest on a narrow path, and he takes me down a path even more narrow, which opens into a small glade, which is covered with a strange-looking grass I have never seen before. No—not grass. This looks like an herb, like mint. It smells strangely minty but isn't exactly mint.

He sits down in the middle of the herbs—it seems to be growing wild here, not a part of the garden, and pulls me down beside him. The scent of the herb floods my nose the moment I am pulled down into it—and I realize this is the same scent as what is used in the bathroom soap and shampoo. It smells _really_ nice!  
  
I was nervous, at first, being here alone with Akira, but now—with this lovely smell in my lungs—I feel much more at ease.

“You _sang_ to him.”

Akira’s voice sounds weird—like it’s being piped through a tunnel or tube or something, echoing strangely in my ears, and I don’t understand the meaning of his words at first.

“What did you say?” I ask, taking another deep breath.

“You sang to him—you _sang_ to the silver cat. I heard you while I was inside the house.”

“That’s not possible.” It couldn’t be possible. I was singing quietly, and we were far away from the house, too. There’s no way he could have heard me from that distance! 

“Your voice—your _song_ —it echoes deep in my heart. I could hear you singing for him. And you _meant_ to sing to him. You want him to take you away from here, and away from me. Why do you trust him and not me? You don’t even _know_ him!”

“What?” I ask again. I am confused. I don’t understand what is wrong with me or why Akira is so agitated. There is nothing to be upset about. I spent a lovely afternoon with my silver cat, and he loved my song—I pleased him, I pleased Virus, I am not in trouble. So why is Akira upset? “I did what I was supposed to do, Akira. Why are you so upset?”

“Konoe, I want to help you escape from here. I want you to stay with me. I want to escape with you and I want you to stay with me.”

“What?” I ask. I’m really confused now. “What are you saying? I don’t understand.”  
  
“Let me show you.”

Akira leans down and kisses me—on the lips. And I let him. The scent of the herb is making his kiss awfully hard to resist. His lips are soft and full—and they are the perfect size. He feels _good_ —his touch feels really gentle and genuine.

But wait just a minute. _Why_ is he kissing me?  
  
I try to pull away, but he has me pinned on my back in the middle of this heavy, rich scent, and I can’t fight him off. He is panting heavily, breathing onto my neck and throat, kissing my mouth, diving deep inside with his tongue without hesitation.

“I want _you_ , Konoe. I want you to _stay_ with me—as my Sanga.”

 _What_? What _is_ this? What is he doing? Isn’t he my friend? 

“Stop— _please_ —Akira—w-wait,” I try, but I’m interrupted by his touch again. I feel his hands undoing the buttons on my vest and shirt, and he is moving quickly. I try to stop them, but I’m only haphazardly stopping him, unable to move as quickly as he can. Soon, his hands flatten against my bare skin and it feels _good_. It feels _tender_. It feels _loving_ and even a little possessive. It’s a little frightening, however.

Do I _want_ this? I'm not so sure, but I have a hard time resisting.  
  
“Relax, Konoe. I know you want this, too. You sang for _me_ —when we were in Virus’ room the other night. You sang for me _first_ —before you sang for the silver-haired bounty hunter. I _know_ you want me, too.”

“W-wait—I d-didn’t mean to sing for you,” I whisper against his mouth.

“Of course you did,” he replies, and he goes for my belt. I don’t protest. I can’t. My body is very heavy—in fact, I feel sleepy and my arms are too heavy to lift. I can’t lift them off the ground. I turn my head and my nose is flooded with that herbal scent.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

My heartbeat throbs loudly in my ears. I can almost see my pulse in the corners of my vision, and my chest tightens painfully.

“Wait—p-please,” I beg, but I still can’t resist.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” Akira says.

And I believe him—my body is still quite excited from when Rai was playing with me and caressing me—and more than anything I want _that_ silver cat. But he isn’t here. Instead, I have this silver cat being tender with me. He isn’t being rough, except for how he is stripping off my pants. He moves my pants down to my knees and then lowers my underwear just enough to expose my erection, which is hot and dripping. 

I shiver when I feel the cool breeze sweep across the bare skin of my hips. A small meow escapes my mouth and Akira’s ears twitch.

“ _Sing_ for me,” he whispers. “Sing for me like you sang for the hunter.”

“Akira,” I protest. I really don’t think I can—not while I’m feeling like this, anyway. “I c-can’t…”

“Konoe— _sing_ for me.” He grabs my cock and I feel something hot and hard pressing up against me—is it his cock? Oh, gods—it feels so good! My body sinks into the earth below me, covered with that strange minty grass, blanketing me from my head to my toe. Akira’s other hand grasps my tail and strokes from base to tip.

A loud purring sigh escapes my mouth, and I feel Akira’s hand stroking our cocks together. It’s wet and slick from the moisture seeping from both of us. He takes his hand away for a moment and licks it, and that adds even more lubrication. I meow in satisfaction and close my eyes.

However, a slight feeling of apprehension washes over me—I _shouldn’t_ be here, I _shouldn’t_ be allowing him to touch me in this way—but I can’t remember _why_. My brain isn’t functioning properly, but I know there is an important reason I shouldn’t allow this. I just can't remember!

“Akira,” I purr softly. “I-i think w-we shouldn’t b-be here together like this—please!”

“Konoe, you’re so gorgeous. Let me hear your voice. Sing for me!”  
  
That’s right—because I want to be with _my_ silver cat, with the _prince_ , the prince with whom I have no chance at all. That is why I shouldn’t be here with Akira! My heart breaks and aches and throbs.

“Please,” I beg.

“Just… _sing_ for me.”

His voice is so soft and yet so demanding at the same time, and his touching, his caressing, and the scent surrounding me and also _his_ scent, strong and sweet—all combine to something irresistible. I can’t hold back, and my heart feels like it might burst.

My song spills out in the form of my feelings.

It’s a sad, mournful song, however—but it expresses a hot desire and the pleasure of being touched—and it’s loud, much louder than when I sang for Rai, almost as though I am calling him. It flows my body and across the surface of my skin, ringing out in my ears, and it sounds so weird—again, like my own voice is being piped through something metal.

My vision is soft and fuzzy—I can see Akira’s blue eyes and his silver shaggy hair—a darker shade than my prince’s hair—and his touch is mesmerizing. I want him—I want them both, actually—but my heart grieves for the prince I will never have. Tears spill down my face and Akira leans in to kiss them away, never stopping his hand.

“What the _hell!_?” A familiar voice sounds far away. “My gods, what the fuck are you doing? You’re fucking him?!”

Akira turns his head and stops his hand, and I meow in complaint, my song getting louder and more demanding.

I hear footsteps, also from far away, and several angry voices—but I can’t make out their words. My mind isn’t functioning. What is wrong with me? And why did Akira stop?  
  
Suddenly, Akira is yanked away from me, and I hear someone yelling, “Thank the gods you didn’t go further!”

“You stupid cats, what were you thinking?”

“You’re really in for it now—the both of you! What the fuck is the matter with you two?!”

Anger is all I can understand from the tone coming into my ears and sobs spill from my mouth, my chest hitching desperately. I become very afraid.

“Please,” I beg. “Please don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt Akira!”

“Hurt you?! By the gods, you will repent of this act if that’s the last thing you do!”

My body is yanked off the ground and that peaceful feeling I’ve been flooded with dissipates in an instant.

“Trip, I’ll get the little one. You take Akira. He’s fighting, but he should be easy enough to handle because of the catnip. Bring them both to the tower. Now. The rest of you, this doesn’t concern you! Get back to whatever you were doing!”

“But what was that _sound_?”

“It’s none of your concern!” I've finally recognized Virus’ voice, and fear jolts my body. I realize I am being carried, still half undressed. Shame floods my body when I realize I'm probably being partly exposed over Virus’ shoulder.

“Trip—did you know that patch was there? Gods! We have a patch of catnip right on campus and I didn’t even _know_?!”

“It was well-hidden. I mean, it grew like a weed there. It’s a cash crop, man.”

“You fucking idiot!” 

I feel sick, and I hear Akira struggling violently.

“Stop your struggling,” Trip says suddenly, and I hear a sickening smack—probably a blow to Akira’s face. Won’t it show? If he’s supposed to be on display this weekend? Is this _my_ fault?

I am filled with fear when I finally begin to come back to myself. My head still feels a little fuzzy, but I recognize the steps leading back inside, and dread floods my body when I am brought upstairs to the tower.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. This came out quite a bit different than I expected. But it's got the feel I wanted. I agonized about this chapter--and ended up with something much more emotionally painful than physically torturing. So please beware.
> 
> Akira and Konoe suffer the punishment of their transgression in the woods. It's awful, but bad in a different way from the first time Konoe was in the tower. I'll leave a summary at the end of the chapter.

“You should absolutely know better, Akira,” Virus is saying. I am still feeling strange—from the weird-smelling grass and that pill Trip made me swallow a few hours ago. Plus I’m exhausted from my song. I can’t move yet—my limbs are still heavy. My clothing is disheveled and I’m lying on the floor in the small, damp room up in the tower.

“He’s not like us!” Akira is yelling and struggling with Trip. “You can’t handle him this way. You can’t treat him like you treat us. You have no idea what he is, how special he is!”

“Shut your mouth,” Trip growls. “You’ve been with us long enough to know what happens when you touch what doesn’t belong to you.”  
  
“If you could have waited at least a week, your punishment wouldn’t be nearly so severe. You _know_ this. And now, I have to punish you both—and so soon before your debut. You’ve left me no choice. I have to be creative.” Virus sounds full of regret, but his tone is false, and it makes me shiver.

“I _forced_ him to come with me,” Akira says. “He didn’t do _anything_ on his own. He didn’t stand a chance against me.”

“That may well be, but I’ve already informed him of the consequences—that he would suffer punishment if he allowed anything to happen!”  
  
“You’ve done much worse to him already! I didn’t even—” 

“We know _exactly_ what you were doing!” Snaps Virus, making my fur bristle. I’m terrified. “I see you feel remorse, though, Akira.” Then he glares down at me.

“I-i am s-so s-sorry,” I stammer desperately. “I-i d-didn’t e-even kn-now wh-what was h-happening! Trip g-gave me s-something b-before I s-saw the s-silver c-cat—”

“Ah, right. I’m sure the effect of the catnip was paralyzing because of that aphrodisiac. But you should have stayed away from it and Akira, in that case,” Virus says, his blue gaze boring into me.

“I don’t even know what catnip is!” I burst out.

“I _brought_ him there! I was angry!” Akira says, finally struggling out of Trip’s grip and moving between Virus and me. “It’s _my_ fault. Please—don’t punish him! You already treat him much too harshly—much more harshly than you treated either Aoba or me, and he is not nearly so rebellious!” 

Virus grabs Akira’s jaw, growling low in his throat.

“You have no right to tell me how to run this school. And if I catch your meaning, the last thing you want is to see this cat punished?”

“He’s a _Sanga_! He’s worth more than this entire school has to offer! You don’t understand how _rare_ he is!” Akira shouts, glaring right back at Virus. 

“Restrain him,” Virus says to Trip, and Trip grabs Akira’s arms roughly, pinning them behind his back. Akira fights back hard—kicking, scratching, biting—and I see fur fly. I am terrified because I can’t move and the space is very small.

“Please!” I beg. “Please—stop this!” 

“You should not be begging for mercy for him, kitten. You ought to be much more worried about yourself,” Virus growls.

Within a few minutes, Akira is pushed onto his knees and forced into that wood restraint—his wrists and ankles bound heavily behind him. He is exhausted, and his hair is even messier than usual—and he is _pissed_.

“You don’t _know_!” He continues to insist—and I wish he would just stop. I am terrified—for him and now for me.

“Shut up,” Trip growls, grabbing his hair and forcing him to look at Virus. 

“What comes next is all on _you_ ,” Virus says, looking at Akira. I am grabbed roughly—still unable to move or defend myself—but my fur bristles and I meow in fear.

“Don’t—don’t touch him! Please!” Akira cries out. 

Before I know what is happening, my clothes are stripped off my body—quickly and efficiently—and I am left a mess of quivering skin and fur on the floor in front of Akira. 

“Please—don’t—don’t hurt him!” Akira begs again, terror suddenly flooding his face, which in turn frightens the hell out of me. “Please—I’m sorry! Please!” 

“You know Konoe can’t move or defend himself after he sings—and he sang—for _you_ , Akira. He is like this _because_ _of_ _you_ ,” Virus says cruelly, poking me with his foot. 

My tail twitches nervously, and a small sound slips out of Akira’s mouth.

“You haven’t witnessed his prescribed treatment yet, have you? You've only heard the results from afar? This is what Arbitro suggested for him—to soften him up for his debut. Keep in mind, he has to go through all of this now _because of you_.”

“Please,” Akira says softly.

“Trip,” Virus growls. I feel my body being shifted around—I’m turned to my stomach and my legs are pushed up underneath me, my torso left flat on the ground. My head is turned toward Akira, however, so he can see the fear in my face. Tears brim in my eyes. I know what is coming, and my fur bristles. 

“Don’t,” Akira whispers. “I will take it— _I_ will take it!”

“It’s too late for that,” Virus says, and I feel that heavy wooden hairbrush slap against my ass—hard—once. I let out a loud cry. I see Akira visibly flinch to the sound of my voice, as though he himself has been struck.

The punishment is much different than the usual swift and business-like spanking I am used to. These blows come one at a time—each blow hard and loud against my defenseless body—each smack drawing a loud cry from my lungs—and each time I cry, it’s as though Virus is also punishing Akira—as though every one of my cries physically hurts him.

Suddenly—it occurs to me that this is _my_ doing— _because I sang to him_ —not once, but twice. He can feel my voice, the pain in my voice—and it is _my_ fault he is hurting, _my_ fault he was angry, _my_ fault he dragged me off the garden path into the catnip. All of this is _my_ fault! I deserve this punishment more than any other punishment I have been subjected to since I’ve been at this place. Tears spill down my cheeks and regret floods my body and into my cries—and that only hurts Akira even more. 

I don’t know what to do! 

“Please—don’t—ah!—look!—ah!” I cry out, but not looking isn’t going to help. What is hurting the silver-haired cat is my voice. _My voice_ is causing him pain. I can’t believe this. Never in my life have I wanted a punishment to just hurry up and be done with more than I do right now. This is just cruel!

Next, I try pleading with Virus.

“Please—won’t you just—please—hurry it up and finish?!” I cry out, desperate. He is spanking me _hard_ with that brush, but slowly, deliberately, making the punishment ever more painful for Akira and for me—and my ass is on fire. It would hurt me just as much to get it all out of the way quickly, I think. I know Virus is being deliberately slow.

“This is Akira’s doing, Konoe. Don’t allow him to seduce you next time. I warned you to protect yourself. I said you’d be a target!” Virus isn’t even close to being winded, and Akira is already a mess. Tears are dripping down his face, and he hasn’t even been physically touched yet. 

My heart is breaking.

I had no idea that my voice could cause harm to anyone. I can’t control it, so I try to bite my lip or the inside of my cheek, drawing blood, allowing as little sound as possible to escape. That makes Virus spank me harder—aiming lower on my ass, where my thighs connect—and it hurts so much more. Even when small grunts escape my throat, Akira shakes and flinches as though he is being physically beaten himself.

I’ve never seen him cry before—ever—and I’m shaken.

“Please! Stop! I will take his punishment— _stop_ this!” He begs—unable to take his eyes off my face. “He’s special—just stop!”

His sobs hurt my chest and make my pain worse—and I cannot stop my tears. I know this is my fault. If I had never sung in the first place, he would not be in this position. I feel terrible—filled with guilt and remorse.

I am begging and pleading, repenting—saying how sorry I am, and Virus continues the slow, extended punishment—and it lasts several long minutes—so much longer than usual—till finally, he stops. 

“You can hear him even in your room, can’t you?” Virus asks, running his hand over my ass lightly.

“Yes,” Akira sobs. “Please, this is enough. I will—I will never touch him again.”

“I’m sure you won’t. But we aren’t finished. Unfortunately for you, you have a guest this evening.”

“What?!” Akira pales. 

“And Konoe will be spending the night up here, in the tower, where we will be seeing to his punishment regularly—so you will have the pleasure of hearing him while _you_ are entertaining your guest.”

“Please! No!”

My fur bristles in fear—does he mean I will be here all night? 

Virus smacks me again, and I shiver in pain.

“Restrain the kitten on the bed. But don’t get too comfortable. We will see to you again shortly.”

I am lifted up onto the twin bed, my arms pulled out in front of my body, my wrists tied to the headboard, and a pillow pushed under my hips. I’m left naked—and smacked again for good measure. With my ass lifted up, I’m a perfect target. I cry into the mattress, trying to be quiet, but Akira is still sobbing. Who is his guest? What is going to happen to him? What have I _done_?

“Now, you know that this particular guest isn’t fussy about your appearance, but you most likely should get the scent of this kitten off your body before he arrives. Trip, make sure he gets a shower and then bring him to the guest room.”

Trip undoes Akira’s restraints and drags him down the stairs—I hear him thumping loudly as he goes, but I don’t think he’s resisting. I think he’s exhausted and resigned. I’m scared out of my wits. 

“I hope you have learned your lesson, kitten. Well. I shouldn’t say that. One of us will be up here again shortly, so you should rest while you have the chance.” Virus says almost kindly, brushing my ears with his hands. “And you did so well with the bounty hunter today. I was so proud of you. But I told you not to sing to Akira again—and this is what happens when you disobey. He is dangerous.”

As he is brushing my ears gently, he smacks me again—hard—with the brush and leaves it on the bed next to me. I can’t touch it since my arms are restrained, plus I haven’t got the strength to move yet. I am miserable. I feel terrible.

 “I am so sorry—I didn’t know,” I sob.

“I’m sure you are. But you’re not nearly as sorry as Akira is about to be. He is about to spend the night with his least favorite and most enthusiastic client— _outside_ of the mating season. _And_ he will have the pleasure of hearing your cries all night long—in addition to his own suffering. And it’s all his own doing. I’ll see you in about half an hour.”

I swallow a lump of fear—my stomach feels heavy. Is this the fencing instructor—Shiki—that Akira warned me about? The one whose sole purpose is to “break you”? My gods. I think I am going to be sick. 

Virus walks away, and I hear his footsteps walk down the stairs.

He’s as good as his word. Every 30 minutes for the rest of the evening, he returns back up those stairs and spanks me several more times—slow and hard—covering my ass and thighs as well as he can, making me scream. I know he is doing this to torture Akira, and I try so hard not to cry out. But if I don’t cry, he only spanks harder. By his third visit, I am crying after the first blow. I can’t hold out anymore.

And after dinner, it’s _Trip_ who visits me—a dirty gleam shining in his eye. And he spanks harder and faster—punishing me gleefully—and it’s easy to give him the cries he is asking for and expecting from me. After that, the visits slow to once per hour, and then once every two hours—throughout the night.

When the sun comes up, I’m given another hard and fast spanking—also by Trip—over the top of my bruised skin—and it hurts so much that I cry out louder than I have so far. I'm exhausted.

I can only imagine what my cries are doing to Akira. I try to sleep in between their visits, but I can’t. I lie there awake, my ears straining, trying to listen for anything from the silver Touga—listening for his voice and to hear what is happening to him. And I hear _nothing_. That is more terrifying to me than hearing him cry or scream. I worry something serious has happened to him. 

* * *

 

The silver bounty hunter feels uneasy when he returns from Applebaum’s. He can’t place the feeling—but an unsettled feeling washes over him about halfway back to his estate on the outskirts of Ransen. It’s almost disconcerting enough to turn his horse around and return to the school—since the feeling has a lot to do with that blonde kitten, he thinks. But this is a feeling, just a vague feeling. He doesn’t have much experience with feelings in general. Perhaps this is just feeling uneasy about leaving something so precious in Virus’ care.

 _A Sanga_. How lucky is that?! He can’t believe it. This might just be the perfect excuse to take him from the school after the social. He tries to distract himself from the discomfort—and it fades a little, the farther he gets from the school, thankfully.

He knows Koujaku had an issue with Aoba. But that was two years ago—when their father was still alive. There was no way Father would have permitted any of his sons to purchase a charity student from that school— _especially_ not a dancer. But Koujaku followed his passion against their father’s wishes and became a dance instructor there, and he fell hard for the blue-haired cat. Yet—he failed to follow through after the death of the king. 

Their brother—Nano—who sat on the throne now—well, he wouldn’t give a flying fuck one way or the other what either of them did, nor with whom. 

Which reminded Rai… perhaps he should garner Nano’s support in his pursuit of the blonde kitten. In fact—wasn’t there another charity case that might appeal to the king? As he’d heard from Koujaku, the silver-haired petite and muscular cat who was eyeing him so harshly today had a peculiar skill that would certainly be attractive to Nano. And Nano was overdue for some time away from the castle.

He’d send him a letter and invite him along as his guest. Hopefully, even if he didn’t find something to suit his own of interest, he would understand both his brothers’ attraction to the students in question. Plus, Rai might have better bargaining power with Virus for all three charity students. Imagine the prestige the school would gain!

Still, Rai wished this uneasy feeling would go away. Once he returns to his home, it’s almost completely faded—only to return within about a half an hour. It’s strange. The discomfort floods his body in the same way that peaceful song flooded him not three hours earlier. He remembers it viscerally. The kitten’s soft glow, the pure tendrils of light, the wonderful sound, and the sense of touch from the light, like soft feathers brushing against his skin. He could hear the kitten’s feelings, too.

_Take me with you. Don’t leave me here. I’m so afraid. Please, I trust you. I want you. More than anything I’ve ever wanted, I want you._

He was frightened by Rai’s touch, too—just a little, as he should have been. Rai is famous for violence. But something about this kitten was endearing and precious. He couldn’t help touching him, putting his hands underneath the fabric of his shirt and brushing against the soft tuft of fur just below his navel. And when Konoe climbed into his lap, bolding kissing him, digging his hands in his hair, licking his ears with that soft, smooth tongue—Rai was smitten.

Fortunately, the discomfort lasts only about five minutes before it dissipates, leaving Rai with a sense of relief. But then, a half an hour later, and again a half an hour after that, he experiences it once more—while he is writing the letter to Nano and then having a late, light supper. He is bothered by this.

Even at night—he wakes hourly to the same sense of unease. Has something happened? He gets almost no sleep. This makes him come to a decision, however. 

One way or the other, he will bring that kitten home. Whether as a purchase or by killing anyone standing in his way, that Sanga was _his_. Recruiting the king’s help in either case made perfect sense. 

* * *

That night was the most painful of Akira’s life.

 _My fault. It’s my fault that magical creature is suffering. If I had just left him alone, he wouldn’t be suffering. I wouldn’t be suffering._  

Akira’s guest is the fencing instructor, Shiki, and is waiting for him less than patiently when Trip brings him into the guest room wearing nothing but a robe. 

“Ah. He’s been prepared for me,” his silky voice floods Akira’s ears unpleasantly. He hates the slimy sound of that voice—this person who has subjected him to all manner of pain and torture since his arrival, who was recruited especially to force his obedience. 

Trip leaves them alone, and Akira won’t look at him. 

“What is it? You’re my most treasured student, Akira. You won’t even look at me?” 

That is when he hears the young Sanga’s voice cry out in pain. Akira is shocked by the physical pain it causes—even at this distance. Is it because of the song? He doesn’t know. But it hurts his chest and brings him to his knees, his ears twitching and clutching at his robe.

“Now that is a look I adore.” 

Akira raises an angry glare at Shiki. This has nothing to do with him! He can’t hear Konoe, he’s sure. Shiki is also a Touga—but he hasn’t heard the kitten sing yet. He _can’t_ hear him sing. Once he does, it will be all over for him—the blonde won’t know what hit him. 

“Defiance. That’s more like it. Have a rough day? I’ve never been given the privilege of training you this close to the season.”

Akira wants to drown out the Sanga’s cries—he can’t stand them. They are so painful— _my fault, my fault, my fault_ —and he covers his ears. It does nothing since the song rings in his heart more than in his ears. 

“Are you trying to piss me off?” Shiki growls. He has approached Akira and grabs his arm.

Akira has almost forgotten he’s in the room with this terrifying cat—black fur, black hair, pale skin, red eyes—fangs that want to devour him and a body that surely is going to fuck him till he can’t walk tomorrow. He bristles his fur and draws his claws and fangs—but is too late.

“You know I like you spunky. Get on the bed.”

His robe is yanked off, unceremoniously, and Akira knows better than to fight too much. He knows it will be worse if he fights—and with the Sanga’s pained cries ringing in his head, he can’t fight. If only Konoe would sing, he might have a chance to defend himself against this bastard.

He’s pushed onto the bed face down, red silk bedding underneath his body. He’s seen these sheets up close many times. He can only hope Shiki is in a desperate state tonight. He doesn’t move but doesn’t lift his tail or open his legs.

Surprising to him, his legs are yanked back toward the edge of the mattress, bristling his fur. A small yelp escapes his mouth, and he growls. His claws catch on the sheets when his tail is grabbed roughly. 

“It’s been a while. Let’s see if your body still remembers its master.”  
  
“I have no master,” Akira mumbles—and a gloved hand smacks his ass. He hears a growl in his ear—and feels a large body hovering behind him—the squeaky feeling of leather pressing against his legs and thighs.

No preparation—not even a finger—just his tail is yanked hard and his hips are grabbed. And that hot heat presses inside him—slowly rather than all in one go as Shiki often does. The slow penetration should hurt less, but it doesn’t. He feels like he is being torn apart, that his organs are being pushed around inside him, that a foreign hot mass is being shoved into him—and no matter how many times this has been done to him, it always feels the same.

_I hate this._

A low growl and hiss escape Akira’s lips, and he tries to struggle—but again, he is too late. Shiki has grabbed him like a vice and continues to advance inside of his body, invading him to his very core—as though flaying him from inside out.

_I deserve this—and worse—for hurting the Sanga._

Akira is flooded with despair, and his voice cries out in pain and sorrow.

“I’m rewarded with your voice tonight,” Shiki murmurs frightfully in his ear, biting down on his shoulder. He is now completely buried inside Akira's body, and starts thrusting right away—no break, no adjustment. And it’s painful, burning, searing heat.

Akira cries out with each thrust at first—and it does gradually get smoother—and worse, his body starts to respond when Shiki’s hands move from their vice-like grip on his hips that will inevitably leave bruises to his shaft—pinching the head between his fingers. 

A sigh he can’t suppress leaks from his mouth, and he feels dirty and taken—and broken.

“Your body does remember its master,” Shiki mocks.

With the way the larger cat is moving his hands, it isn’t long before Akira’s hips start to move—helplessly—wanting release—desperate for it—even despite or possibly because of the pain. The depravity of what is being done to him isn’t lost on him, and it’s so different from the way the Sanga felt this afternoon—the tender kisses, his soft lips, his responsive and submissive body—and that gorgeous song. But Akira can’t help responding this way. Indeed, he has been trained to respond this way when Shiki had him for an entire week last year. He feels disgusted with himself.

_I deserve this._

When his climax threatens to overtake him, he is flooded with despair and grief, especially when his shaft is grabbed at the base and Shiki suddenly stops moving.

“No. I want you to beg me for it,” the silky voice whispers huskily in his ear.

In the past, Akira would have held out—he would have refused. He would have shaken his head and stayed right where he was and rebelled. Or he would have tried to, at least. But now, he knows he has no chance. He is already broken—at least before this cat, in this bedroom—being fucked like this. 

“Please—I want to come. Please.” His voice leaks out of his mouth desperately. Really, he just wants the act to finish, and he knows Shiki won’t finish until he does. It’s his own sick pleasure. 

“What a good boy,” he purrs, and immediately begins the violent thrusting once again—taking Akira by surprise as always and chasing him to his limit. The soft gasping sighs in his ear are horrifyingly arousing, and that is what brings Akira to the edge and lets him release, spilling into the hand that is handling him so roughly.

Along with his release, the awful despair floods him once again, especially when Shiki climaxes inside of him, leaving behind that disgusting slimy feeling inside of his body—it feels just like his voice sounds, dripping down the insides of his thighs instead of into his ears.

Akira is in a daze, not noticing when he is moved onto the bed—ignoring Shiki pulling him into his arms and against his chest for a few minutes, grooming his ears and his hair gently. Akira doesn’t feel anything but numb—until the Sanga cries again. He curls up on himself, his chest caving in, clawing at his bare skin. 

“Oy, what is the matter with you tonight?” Shiki asks, and he is actually stroking Akira’s back gently. “You seem genuinely upset.”

Of course, Akira won’t tell him—he can’t say anything. If Shiki knew about the Sanga, Konoe would be in even more danger. 

_And that also would be my fault._

So he suffers in silence. The rest of the night, Konoe cries every hour, then every two—and each time, Akira wakes up in pain from those cries. 

_I deserve so much worse than this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Konoe and Akira are brought up to the tower. Konoe can't move because of his song, and Akira fights with Trip and is eventually restrained. He tries to convince Virus the incident is his fault--Virus shouldn't punish Konoe, which makes Virus punish Konoe in front of Akira.
> 
> Konoe's cries--when he is slowly spanked with the hairbrush a la Arbitro--physically hurt Akira, because of their connection as Sanga/Touga. Konoe is devasted, believing this is all his fault--if only he hadn't sung to Akira, none of this would have happened. When both kittens are in tears, Konoe is restrained and left in the tower--punished every 30 minutes, then every hour, then every two for the rest of the night. Akira will be able to hear him no matter where he is in the school, hurting for him.
> 
> And Akira also has another punishment. He is scheduled to see a "guest," Shiki. Who takes him roughly and unprepared. Akira is devasted--thinking this entire business is HIS fault--if he had just left Konoe alone, everything would have been all right. Shiki rapes him, of course, and Akira submits, as he has many times before.
> 
> Strangely--Rai "hears" Konoe's cries on his way back to his estate. He gets an uneasy feeling, which he dismisses as "just a feeling," but these feelings go away and come back every half hour, then every hour, then every two--the rest of the night. Rai doesn't sleep well and comes to the decision to invite the king, his brother Nano, to the social, in the hopes of getting his support to adopt Konoe into his household. He thinks Akira (who he noticed was staring at him that day) might have a talent that interests the king, who really needs to get out more. By the end of the night, though, Rai has decided that Konoe will be staying with him--even if he has to kill people standing in his way.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out the final portion of our poor kittens' punishment comes the next morning when both Konoe and Akira are worn down from the night they had before.
> 
> Trigger: abuse (clear and simple), figging, public paddling, humiliation.

The next morning, Akira can barely move. Shiki has left in the early morning hours, and he finds himself alone in the bed, sore, bruised, and unable to walk. He tries to get up to bathe—more than anything he wants to scrub the scent of that other abusive cat from his skin and hair—but can’t even stand on his own two feet, so he collapses to the floor and crawls back to the bed.

This is a common occurrence after visits from this particular guest—however, with the upcoming social event, Akira has some concerns. He is nervous about seeing Shiki there again, and him being won at the auction for the night, and while he _should_ be in heat, they have never been compatible. That leaves him with more comfortable penetration but the feeling his fur is being brushed the wrong way—and that’s if Shiki _doesn’t_ do anything specifically to hurt him, which would also be unusual.

For now, he waits for Virus or Trip to come in and tell him what will happen to him today. The little Sanga hasn’t been punished for two hours, however, much to his relief. He hopes that is the end of it for Konoe's discipline.

Soon, the door is unlocked and opened, and standing there is Virus, carrying the kitten. Akira sits up in the bed when he notices Konoe. He looks broken—and he’s naked—his ass and thighs are bruised and welted. 

Akira’s heart breaks. 

* * *

I’m in Virus’ arms when I realize he’s carried me down to one of the guest rooms. I was thankful not to receive another punishment on top of the welts I already have, but when he lifted me out of bed, it was because I couldn’t walk on my own.

Now, in this guest bedroom, he lays me on the bed, face down, next to Akira.

My face is turned toward the silver cat—and he looks _awful_. He looks more broken and used than I have ever seen him—and his eyes are red and swollen from tears. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. And that makes fresh tears spill from my eyes. _None_ of this would have happened if I hadn’t sung in the first place!

“Now, now,” Virus says. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You two only have five more days before the social, and you still have a lot to learn. But the one thing _both_ of you need to learn first is submission. This punishment is the result of direct disobedience. Both of you should know better. Especially you, Akira. But Konoe, we have been trying to teach you this since day one.”

“I’m sorry,” I whimper quietly into the mattress.

“There is a punishment I have in mind for you, kitten—” Virus strokes my welted ass as he speaks, “But I want to be sure that you will not be too beaten down or exhausted by the weekend. However, I think we can manage this—for both of you if we finish today.” 

The door opens again, and Trip enters.

“This will also be great training for you, too.”

I shudder in fear.

“Please—right now?” I beg. “Sir, I am sorry—for everything—for singing, for touching Akira—for everything!”

“Oh, I can see you are, but you haven’t paid in full for your infraction yet.”

“Open up,” Trip says gruffly. He is holding something in his hand and has turned my head to the side.

I’m afraid to disobey and I open my mouth. There is something spicy that he puts in my mouth—it’s a root—maybe ginger? I don’t dislike the taste, but I don’t know what this really about. Plus the more it stays in my mouth, the spicier it gets.

“You’ll want to moisten it up as much as possible, kitten. It’ll make for easier insertion.” Trip is grinning down at me.

 _Insertion_? What the hell? I choke on the strong flavor and as it’s shoved even further into my throat I can’t help gagging.

“You’d better not gag on your first client, kitten. It's unseemly,” Virus advises. “One for you, too, Akira.”

“N-no—please!” But Akira’s words are muffled when something is shoved into his mouth as well. “Hmmph!”

His reaction is frightening me much more than I was already. He starts to struggle—even with the ginger in his mouth.

Mine is pulled out of my mouth suddenly, and my body is yanked toward the edge of the bed.

“Now relax,” Trip growls, and he pries my butt cheeks apart. Even him touching me stings my skin—and when my saliva drips from the piece of ginger, I yelp in pain. It burns like fire, like rubbing salt or lemon juice in an open wound—and only gets hotter against my ass and thighs.

“Please, sir!” I beg desperately.

“Now, relax and it won’t be so bad. If you fight, it will burn even more,” Virus advises almost kindly.

Before I realize what is happening, the ginger has been shoved up my ass. I gasp at the painful sensation—I have been touched like this before, but it’s still so intrusive. I comply, though and relax, and that does make it easier.

“Now you wait for a while. And Akira—you’re next. Trip, I’ll need you to hold him down.”  
  
Akira is clawing the mattress—I know he saw a guest yesterday—but he screams while the two larger cats are working him over, his legs kicking out behind him on the edge of the mattress. Why does it hurt him so much more?

“Nice work, Akira. It looks like Shiki has done our work for us.”

“Hurts! Please!” Akira wails.

A few moments have passed, and I start to notice a direct burning sensation inside my asshole. I try flexing my muscles to shift around—but flexing hurts even more. My gods! What _is_ this?

I am barely able to lift myself up on my torso, and I turn to look at Virus.

“Wh-what is this??” I ask, desperate.

“Just relax. If you don’t relax it will make your punishment so much worse,” Virus says. “Akira, I’ll restrain you if I see your hands back here again and add five extra minutes to your time.”  
  
A small grunt comes out of the silver cat, and he buries his face into the mattress, still panting hard. 

Now—after the first few minutes have passed, I am _very_ uncomfortable. I too start to reach behind me and wiggle my hips, trying to dislodge the burning sensation from inside me.

My knuckles are wrapped—hard—with something wood, making me squeal with pain. I obediently lower my hands to the bed, underneath my head.

“Now, we have a choice to perform this punishment in here or publicly during breakfast.”  
  
My ears flatten instantly. My ass is already so sore and welted—being exposed like this would be so much worse!

“Where do you think you would learn your best lesson?”  
  
Akira doesn’t speak, but I can’t stop my mouth from begging. I can’t help seeing Akira’s ears twitch painfully every time I open my mouth, but I can’t stop myself.

“Please! If you don’t want to put me at risk—please! Sir!”

“But I think you learn so well from humiliation, Konoe,” Virus says. “Trip, get their robes and bring them to the dining room.”

I shudder—and when Trip helps me slip on my robe—even moving a little makes my asshole burn. I can stand up and the root is still inside me, shifting around uncomfortably. I feel fear like I haven’t felt before.

“Consider this a blessing, Konoe. It's great practice for the social this weekend.”  
  
Trip grabs both our arms, and Akira is limping horribly. It burns each time I move my legs, and tears are already streaming down my face. But it’s too late. I see we are headed into the dining room, toward the front, where there is a table waiting for Trip and Virus to dine. I feel every eye look up when we are led in, and my heart trembles in fear. 

“I’m not sure you’re aware, but these two charity students were caught frolicking in the woods yesterday afternoon,” Virus announces. “Because Konoe has not yet had his debut, this infraction is particularly serious, and we are going to set a public example of them. _This_ is what happens when you disobey at this school.”

Akira is shoved up against the table, and Trip roughly strips off his robe—leaving him naked in front of the guests. When he is bent over the table, I can see his ass is red and swollen—even _inside_. And he is biting his lip so as not to cry out.

“You will keep your hands on the table in front of you,” Virus says. Akira lowers his face and his claws dig in. “Konoe, watch, please. This is happening _because_ of you. And _you_ are next.”

I feel sick to my stomach, but I obey—horrified. Virus walks around to the other side of Akira—and pulls out a paddle. It’s a medium-sized paddle—larger than that hairbrush, but lighter. Without warning or further ado, he tears into Akira with that paddle—spanking him again and again.

Strangely—the sounds that come out of Akira are muffled at first, though I can see tears in his eyes and running down his cheeks. I shift uncomfortably—the burning inside my body hurts so much! But being paddled with that inside of me? I can’t _imagine!_  I want to throw up.

Within the first five spanks, Virus has Akira yelping and screaming in pain. I lose track after ten swats—but his ass and thighs look miserable.

“When you are told to keep your hands off the merchandise, you will do _just_ that—regardless of whatever ‘feelings’ you think you have!” Virus orders. He yanks Akira up off the table and pushes him to his knees.

Then—it’s my turn. I’m devastated to be punished again so publicly, but I can’t defend myself, and I am meowing quietly even as I am pushed against the table and my robe is stripped off. I hear a gasp from the students watching this production and I realize it’s probably because my ass is already welted.

“Konoe has been punished already, but this is the last portion of his punishment. I hope you will learn your lesson.” Virus leans in and whispers in my ear, “You’ll want to keep your body relaxed for this, kitten.”

The first spank of the paddle comes down on my ass—and I clench my cheeks to defend myself from it—but it _burns_. That ginger is _burning_ me! I cry out loud—both in pain from the paddle against my already wounded flesh, and also because of the burning inside me.

Fat tears are streaming down my cheeks, and I am trying not to growl with pain—but I’ve never felt anything so raw before. My gods—is this what is going to be expected of me? Does _sex_ hurt like this? Or is this all because of the ginger?  
  
I quickly lose track of the number of spanks as well, but I learn quickly to keep my muscles relaxed, because this does indeed make the burning much less. I hear a lot of noise coming out of my mouth, however. I’m sobbing and crying and almost screaming—each time that paddle comes down.

And I happen to see Akira out of the corner of my eye. He’s kneeling on the floor, his head buried in his hands, trying to cover his ears. He flinches every time I scream. My gods—this is  _my_ _fault_.

Finally, the punishment is over, and I am yanked up from the table and pushed down onto my knees next to Akira. The floor feels cool against my ass—I can feel the temperature drifting up from between my knees. I want to touch Akira, tell him it’s all right, that I am sorry—but I am too afraid to move. 

Virus is going on and on about something—and my ears are red hot and blushing. He is saying, “If I _ever_ …” so I know it’s a threat.

“All right. Let’s get these two out of here for treatment.”

Trip pulls us both up—and my red ass and thighs and tears make for the perfect spectacle. It was, actually, very good practice for the weekend social. At the moment, in fact, I’m not even embarrassed about being naked. I just want this ginger out of my ass. 

I know better than to beg, however, and both of us are led into Virus’ bathing chamber.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, sir,” we answer in unison, between tears and hitching breaths, of course.

“Good. I don’t enjoy punishing you. I’d much rather reward you for doing well. Now, we will see to your care. I can’t have you this damaged the day of the social. But you will feel the ginger treatment the next time either of you disobeys. And Akira—if you step out of line, I won’t hesitate to punish Konoe as well.”

He gulps, looking down at the floor.

Trip unceremoniously pushes me over the showering stool, knocking the wind from my body for a second. He pulls the ginger out of my ass after shoving my feet aside, and it burns on its way out. I cry a few more tears as I am pushed under the showers.

“You’ll want to rinse that out as much as possible, kitten,” he growls.

I don’t watch when he treats Akira the same way.

I’m allowed to soak in the bath after our showers, and Akira is taken away. I feel terrible. Soon, I hear Virus calling me.

“Konoe, I’d like to treat your skin now. Please get out of the bath and come see me.”

I obey as quickly as I can—limping from the spanking and my still-burning insides.

“Bend over, please, and spread your legs.” 

Virus is nodding toward a chair—he’s spanked me against this at least once before. My fur bristles slightly, but I obey.

“This may be uncomfortable,” Virus warns. Something slimy is pressed inside my hole. It _does_ burn and sting—he’s got at least two fingers inside me, and is rubbing something around my inner walls. It feels disgusting, and I cry from the humiliation of it. 

“Ah, such sweet tears,” he murmurs. “Surely those tears will please your guest this weekend.”

Then I feel a cooling sensation against my ass and thighs. It burns just a little first, but it definitely soothes my skin this time. It’s not the usual astringent, I realize, and I relax. I can’t help myself—I sigh, even—because of how soothing it is. 

“Does that feel nice? Listen, little kitty. You could have _this_ kind and gentle treatment alone if you would only obey the rules here. Do you understand? This is _your_ doing. _Your_ choice.”

“I-i’m s-so sorry, sir,” I whisper.

“I’ll give you the rest of the day off to think about your actions. Rest and read.”

I’m still naked, and I glance up over my shoulder to meet his gaze.

“M-may I dress, sir?”

“No.” Virus is absolute and my ears droop sadly. “You have not earned that privilege today.”

“M-may I write a letter to Rai? Thanking him for the visit and the rose? Please, sir?”

“Hmm. Yes. That would be acceptable. I will read it before sending it, of course. Feel free to use my stationary as soon as you feel well enough to sit.”

“Th-thank y-you, sir,” I whisper.

“Rest well.”

Thankfully, I am left alone and I feel relief course through my body as soon as I am able to rest. I do rest—and I actually drift off to sleep from exhaustion—for a few hours. Virus has left lunch for me when I wake, and I carefully get up to eat.

I am still very sore. But after I eat, all I can think about is Rai.

Worrying about the social event, and whether sex with him will hurt—and how much—but I have _got_ to get out of here before Virus and Trip kill me. I don’t care if it does hurt when Rai fucks me— _if_ it means I will get out of here. 

I sit down to write a letter to him—and I think about what to say as my ass burns against the fabric of the chair. Still no clothing. I wonder if he’d like the idea that I wrote this while I was naked—and the thought of that—him _imagining_ me naked—send a burst of desire to my lower half.

He touched me—my skin—under my shirt yesterday in that grove, and it felt nicer than anything I could ever imagine. Even if he would touch me like that once a month, I would put up with any punishment he could come up with. I’m sure of that. I would do it—for him.

But he’s a prince. And I am not.

I sigh, brushing a few tears from my eyes, and I get to writing.

> _Dear Rai,_
> 
> _Thank you for taking the time to visit me yesterday. Spending time with you was the best thing to happen to me in the past week, if not my entire life. I loved talking with you, singing for you, kissing you, and feeling your touch. If I could have things my way, I’d spend every hour of the day in your arms._
> 
> _I look forward to seeing you this weekend. The thought that you will be there—as my support—encourages me more than I can express. I am afraid and nervous, of course. But the fact that you will be there is more than enough to make me excited about the event._
> 
> _Thank you for the rose, too. It gives me something that I can see and feel and smell while I’m not in your presence that reminds me of you. Plus it makes me feel you are thinking about me._
> 
> _Am I in your thoughts? Even if you thought about me just once this week, that would be enough for me. I know it is a bold request, but if you would think of me, I will sing for you for the rest of my life._
> 
> _Forever your Sanga,_
> 
> _Konoe_

There. I’m pleased with it, though it’s quite sappy. I’m not used to writing letters to anyone, much less love letters. I just hope Virus will send it for me.

I’m exhausted again, so I leave the letter I wrote on the desk and crawl back into bed. But even exhausted, I can’t get Rai’s face out of my mind—the feel of his silky hair brushing against the bare skin of my chest, his teeth nipping my neck and licking away any pain, his lovely fresh, wintery scent, the sound of his voice rumbling in my ears, and the feeling of his hands in my fur.

I drift off to sleep, thinking of that silver cat—and I dream about him. We are in the grove next to the river again—and he goes further this time. He unbuckles my pants and caresses my dick—gently—and I feel his hair brushing against my stomach. In my dream, he treats me with such care—pushing his thumb into my slit and stroking me. I am gasping with pleasure in my dream—and I wake up when I climax.

I realize I have dreamed everything—I wasn’t even touching myself! And I am terribly ashamed. Worse, I’m in Virus’s bed. I wobble into the bathing chamber to clean up, despite my relaxed body—I’m basking in a nice afterglow and I only want to sleep. But if I don’t clean up, I am terrified that Virus will think I have done something to myself and will punish me for it. I do as best as I can and before I realize, I’d drifted off to sleep again.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoe is commanded to practice dancing with Aoba today, and it turns out the blue cat is upset with him. Their confrontation leads to further drama with Virus.
> 
> Trigger: non-con spanking, belting, groping and more.

The next morning, I wake alone in Virus’ bed. I’m still exhausted and sore, and it isn’t long before the headmaster makes another appearance at my side.

“Let’s treat your skin,” he says.

I give a long stretch, and apparently, I’m not moving quickly enough.

“Come on. Delayed obedience is disobedience,” he scolds impatiently. “Get up here.”

I stop my hesitation and I climb on top of the sheets, face down. I sigh grumpily, but I smother the sound into a pillow and it is ignored, thankfully. Virus spends more time than necessary treating my skin—it’s still sore but it feels much better than it did yesterday.

“You’re still pink back here. Quite pretty,” Virus admires his work, and I feel heat climbing up into my ears and cheeks. He is taking his time, caressing me and stroking my skin and tail. My fur fluffs out defensively.

“All right. Let’s get you dressed.”

I am expected to dress in front of Virus—and I suppose I should become less embarrassed about being so exposed—especially considering the upcoming weekend's plans. It makes me feel sick.

After a light breakfast, I am scheduled for dance lessons with Aoba. He seems slightly angry or at least annoyed with me, and I’m not sure why. I want to ask and make sure I haven’t done anything to offend him. When Virus and Trip aren’t in the room watching us, I murmur to him quietly.

“Aoba, are you all right?”

“What?” He asks.

“I mean you're being oddly quiet, and I am just afraid I did something offensive.” 

“Why would you think that? Just because _my_ dance instructor is coming to _your_ debut? And _you’re_ getting all the attention?” His voice sounds snippy. I’m shocked at how angry his response is, to be honest.

“B-but I don’t _want_ the attention! You can _have_ it!” I protest. It’s true—all this attention really might kill me. I am quite afraid of what may be done to me between now and the weekend. If he wants this attention, he can have it!

“It’s not about that,” Aoba clarifies, pulling me across the dance floor. “It’s about the fact that you flirt with everyone you meet!” 

My ears flatten and bristle, and I stop dancing.

“I do not _flirt_ ,” I growl.

“Oh? What do you call your interaction with _my_ dance instructor, then? And all of Akira’s attention—he’s _obsessed_ with you! Plus you’re flirting with Noiz—he can’t stop talking about your ass! And it’s obvious you don’t even _want_ him." 

“I’m not flirting with _anyone_ ,” I insist.

“Well, then, you have _so_ much to say to everyone,” Aoba continues. “And Noiz sure as hell can’t stop talking about you. Plus Akira is miserable! You should never have sung to him as you did!”

“I didn’t _mean_ to sing to him! I was just singing because Virus told me to—that was all! I think Akira heard me because he’s a Touga,” I try to explain, but Aoba is having none of it.

“Bullshit. You’re _flirting_ , just like you did with Koujaku.” 

I press my lips together and don’t speak for a minute. Unfortunately, this is when Virus enters the room.

“What’s going on here?” Virus asks.

“Konoe isn’t willing to dance with me,” Aoba says. 

What the hell?

“N-no, that's not—”

“Konoe, I told you to practice your dance steps. Why aren’t you doing what I asked you to do? Do you think you know better than I do?”

“Uh—n-no,” I lower my ears and my tail droops. Before I lower my face, though, I see Aoba’s expression, and he’s hiding a smirk. Did he just deliberately get me in trouble?

“Luckily, I have _just_ the thing to fix your attitude. Get over here.”

Virus is standing next to the mirror, and I drag my body over to where he is standing. I am about to go down to my knees to beg forgiveness, but he pushes me up against the mirror, and my hands splay against it desperately. This is awful. I can see him in my reflection, and I can also see Aoba. 

“Lower your trousers and underwear,” Virus growls in my ear.

I _cannot_ take another punishment on top of what I got yesterday.

“Please!” I beg. “I just stopped dancing for a second!” 

“If I have to make you do it, you will get twice the number of strokes, kitten.”

My fur bristles, and tears brim in my eyes. I swallow thickly and obey, unfastening my belt and lowering my pants and trousers to my knees. I hear a quiet gasp behind me—and I glance up at the reflection. It was Aoba—and he is appalled when he sees the state of my ass, I’m sure. 

“W-wait,” Aoba says. “I-it was really n-nothing. I-i, um, _I_ stopped dancing to talk to him. This i-is m-my fault…” 

Virus glances up at Aoba.  
  
“Really? I don’t believe you. Konoe, brace yourself against the mirror and keep your tail out of the way.” Something cool and flat is pressed up against my skin, and I shudder in fear. It’s the damned hairbrush! Shit. I swallow down my tears—or try to—but I’m sobbing before the first blows rain down against my sore, bruised skin.

I can’t keep my body still—my tail is swaying, and my knees want to buckle under the pain. It’s only three strokes in, and I’m crying out loudly with each stroke. I also can’t seem to look away from him or my own miserable expression in the mirror. It’s incredibly humiliating as well as physically painful. Is this how desperate and broken I have become?

“If you would just learn your place, I wouldn’t have to punish you so often. Is it that difficult to do as we ask?” Virus asks, between strokes. He isn’t out of breath—he doesn’t have to spank me that hard since my skin is already so distressed. I am sobbing from pain and desperation. He looks so pleased with himself that it makes goosebumps raise on my skin. 

“Virus—please—that’s enough, isn’t it?” I can hear Aoba, but I don’t raise my eyes. I’m mortified that he is seeing any of this, though I suppose it’s more preparation for the weekend’s social. “Please—this isn’t even his fault!” 

“Oh, isn’t it? Are you asking for punishment as well?” Virus stops spanking me just long enough to stare down Aoba.  
  
“N-no,” he says, dropping his eyes to his feet. 

“Well, if this really _wasn’t_ his fault, what do you think you should _do_ about it?” Virus says sharply. “You got him in trouble. Don’t you feel bad?”

“Ah, um, yeah,” Aoba says. “Please—I didn’t know he was already in such bad shape.” 

My ear is grabbed harshly and pulled, my lower half still shamefully exposed. Virus stalks over to Aoba, dragging me behind him and grabs Aoba’s blue ear as well. He bristles and cries out in pain.

“Come along, then, kittens who know better than the headmaster.”  
  
Virus really sounds pissed. He drags us into his office and closes the door. I am in so much pain that I ignore the trousers trapping my knees, and I just stumble after him to get him to release my ear.

“Face the wall, both of you.”

My fur bristles. Ugh—this is going to be even worse.

“Please,” Aoba says.

“Oh, you’ve had this coming to you for a while. I haven’t prepared you for the social even a little. You’re quite right about that,” Virus growls, digging around in the cabinet for something. He’s found it and brings it over to Aoba. “Konoe, turn around and watch, please.”  
  
“Please,” Aoba begs softly. 

“Drop your pants.” 

Hiding his tears, Aoba unbuckles his trousers and slides them off his hips, along with his underwear. His fur bristles and his claws are drawn.

“Get over to the chair and bend over. Konoe, learn from Aoba’s experience. This is how we punish our more experienced charity cases.”

I bristle my own fur in fear when I see him spread Aoba’s cheeks and shove something inside him—it looks large in Virus’ hand and it’s making a strange vibrating sound, almost like a cat’s purr. Aoba has not been prepared, and he winces when it enters him. But what happens next is frightening. Aoba starts to act like I felt after Verg touched me. He starts purring and his legs shake, and a sensual sounding sigh escapes his lips.

“Hold this in place until I say you can move.”

“Please—I can’t—”

“You can and you will.” Virus sits down at his desk. I am watching Aoba’s face—and he looks miserable and elated at the same time. Does that feel good inside of him? His body is responding to it, that’s for sure. His eyes close halfway and his tongue is slightly exposed, and he continues making those strange, soft gasping pants. 

But it isn’t more than a few minutes when it slips out of his ass. He lowers his face to the chair and meows in apology.

“I-i c-couldn’t h-help it!” He is desperate, but Virus has already stood up from the desk. He shoves the vibrating thing back inside of Aoba and then pulls a belt from the top of the desk.

“You will _learn_ to help it. You know what you’ve got coming. Count.”

Virus has been mean and cruel to me—and I’ve seen him be cruel to Akira—but I have never really noticed his face until now. He looks like he is _enjoying_ this, and that he set Aoba up to fail. It’s shocking to me—I’m appalled. 

He starts strapping Aoba’s ass and thighs with the belt—and Aoba obediently counts off each stroke, his voice getting softer with each stroke. I see his knees wobbling and I want to do something to help this or stop it, but I can’t. The sound of the belt against his ass is loud and makes me wince and flatten my ears each time. Virus turns to glance at me to make sure I am watching Aoba’s punishment. In total, he gets six strokes with the belt, leaving his ass and thighs welted.

His skin is nearly as pale as mine—and I’ve never watched a punishment before today. Now I’ve seen both my own and Aoba’s, and it’s _horrible_. I feel embarrassment for Aoba—struggling against the chair, trying not to let his knees collapse—and then the vibrator falls out again. He lowers his face and murmurs the same pathetic apologies, and Virus belts him again, making him count, making my own skin shiver with revulsion.

What _is_ this place?!

My body is shaking with fear and rage, as well as a vulnerable defenselessness and helplessness when I realize there is _nothing_ I can do for Aoba. He is getting punished because of _me_. I hurt Akira, and now I hurt Aoba, too.

“Please!” I whisper—interrupting the third round with the belt. “Isn’t this enough? I’m sure he’s learned what you had to teach him!”

Virus glares at me, landing two more smacks against Aoba’s ass and sit spot, making him yelp.

“And you’d know this because…?”

“I-i’ve b-been w-watching,” I say, lowering my face immediately in response to his aggression.

“Do you _want_ to spend more time in the tower, kitten?” My jaw is grabbed roughly, and I’m forced to meet those cold blue eyes. “I don’t care _how_ many princes have their eye on you. I have taken your obedience and education on _myself_. Don’t fool yourself, little Sanga. I’m the _best_  teacher and advocate you’ve got.”

I shudder down to my core, and I’m frightened. The hand holding the belt strokes my naked skin deliberately, making my punished skin prickle in pain. The leather pulls the fur at the base of my tail, making it bristle and making my body shiver.

“P-please—I d-didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care _what_ your intentions were. I only care about how you _appear_. No one else has that in their thoughts as much as I do. No one cares about your future as much as I do.” He strokes my chin gently, but his grip is so tight I feel like he could break my jaw with just a little more pressure. Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. “Now, _this_ is a lovely look for you, kitten. Remember this feeling—keep it in mind on the night of the social.”

Aoba is left to suffer for some time, yet—and he is in no shape to dance once Virus is finished with him. He is left a quivering mess of pink welts, blue fur, and soft silky hair. His skin is blushing gently—and his butt really does look pretty with those stripes across it. I am repulsed by thinking such a thing.

But is what Virus says true? Does he really care about me and my future? He warned me the training would be vigorous. But I can’t believe it. He’s too cruel. 

I swallow those feelings down deep and wait to be excused. I watch as he applies cream to Aoba’s ass and thighs, and then barks at him to get dressed.

“Konoe, you’re next. Get over here.”

I do not hesitate or delay, moving my feet as fast as possible. I’m afraid of that belt that he held up against my skin. I drape my body over the side of the chair, and Virus applies the same cream to my skin as well.

“I don’t want this to damage you permanently. I wish you’d do a little better with obedience. You’re a disappointment to me and this school.”

Those words hurt my chest almost as much as physical punishment and a few more tears spill.

“I’ll do better. I promise, sir.” The words leak from my mouth without my consent. It’s frightening.

“You’d better, or this treatment will continue. Pull up your pants, Konoe. It’s unseemly to be exposed like this.”

“Ah, yes, sir,” I mumble.

“Both of you get to your rooms and rest.” Have I just been excused to my _own_ room? My heart lifts, except that Virus grabs my arm. “Kitten, you’re going to _my_ room.”

Lowering my ears and tail obediently, I do as he commands. I curl up on the bed and weep. I feel so utterly broken. Even the other charity students suffer because of me!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rai decides to act on those feelings of anxiety (OMG! he validates his feelings!) and check up on the health of his little Sanga. He isn't pleased with what he finds and he insists on some changes.
> 
> Trigger: There is consensual oral sex in this chapter and some degree of angst.

The third prince shifts around at his desk and stands up. He has been pacing for the past few days, trying to settle to a strange, uncomfortable feeling in his chest. If he didn’t know himself better, he might describe this odd sensation as a panic attack—only without the panic. It’s more a feeling that something is not right and it makes him want to move. He can’t put his finger on exactly what the problem is, either. It’s a feeling, after all, and those can’t mean anything—but if that is true, why is he so affected?

Additionally, the young blonde kitten has been on his mind. He paid him a visit on Sunday, of course, and only has to wait two more days before he can see him again. He can’t help it, but he has caught himself fantasizing about the kitten several times over the past few days as well. Some are vague fantasies, such as wondering what his lithe form might look like completely nude; some are more specific, such as imagining exactly what he would like to do the kitten once he gets his hands on him—exactly how he would make him come undone, shivering beneath his fingers, that breathless voice huffing with pleasure. Really, it’s an uncommon occurrence for Rai to have such fantasies at all. He'd always thought he'd had a low libido. As his trainer told him, he preferred a good fight to a good fuck.

At first, the fantasies were easily written off due to the impending mating season, and symptoms for Rai are setting in early. But as they became more consistent and distracting, even as far as showing up in his dreams, Rai can’t deny that he is fascinated by the young Sanga.

_A Sanga, of all things. How lucky could this be?_

There is no question as to whose Sanga he will be, in his mind—and a slight jealous feeling is aroused when Rai imagines the kitten singing for an entire audience. That voice is meant only for _his_ ears. And what if the kitten has sung for someone else? That thought is quickly pushed aside. Jealousy is neither a pleasant nor productive feeling. 

He has heard from Nano, the king and his oldest brother, who has agreed to attend the event, albeit reluctantly. It took persuasion from both his brothers to convince him to leave the castle. But a short sojourn will do him some good. 

Koujaku has not stopped by again. Rai worries about his second brother because it’s obvious to him that he is still in love with his blue-haired dancer. Rai does not have the experience Koujaku has in relationships. However, he finds it hard to believe that _anyone_ —especially a charity student in that dancer’s position—would be able to turn down an honest offer from a prince. Perhaps that is Koujaku’s concern—that his dancer would agree to go with him because he believes he has no choice.

_If it were me, I wouldn’t care. That little Sanga is coming home with me sooner or later, whether he wants to or not._

Still, this uneasiness comes over him in waves and unpredictably—and it does not subside. Part of him wonders if it might be related to the kitten, and he considers this for a few moments. Before his Sunday visit, he hadn’t experienced any symptoms like this at all. Ever. Perhaps it is a result of the Sanga's song. Even when he remembers the song, it echoes in his ears and heart—that tender desperation and call for help. Maybe it would be a good idea to make up an excuse to visit the kitten before the social, just to make sure he is all right.

It would be a lie to say that Rai didn’t take special care in his appearance before he left his house today. He double-checks that his suit is fitting as it should and he takes a few extra moments to run a brush through his hair before grabbing his weapons and heading to the stables. 

* * *

 

 **Konoe** :

I’m spending time reading the newspaper in Virus’ room, realizing vaguely that I’ve no longer been permitted to attend history class. I wonder if it was a one-time thing or if I am being segregated from the other students. The only time I see anyone else is during dance lessons and those are performed either with Aoba or with the dance instructor in class.

Koujaku dances with me each time, teaching me new steps. He seems oddly preoccupied with my state of health, which I find somewhat unnerving. I wonder how much he knows about the punishment process here—but I heard Akira say that he thought I was being handled much more roughly than either he or Aoba. So I don’t say anything specific to him. However, occasionally, I do feel a hand brush my ass or thighs—in a sort of casual way, it feels like to me, rather than in a way that indicates interest. I couldn't help flinching, though I haven’t been punished since the day before yesterday—at least not severely, with the hairbrush, at least. I have been made to do some degrading things, including spending most of the day without a stitch of clothing on (fortunately, Virus didn’t allow me out of his chambers that day).

In some ways, I realize it’s better for me to be as far as possible from the other students—especially Akira and Aoba—since my presence causes trouble for them. It is better to be alone than to make them suffer. I sigh quietly to myself, wondering when the last time I saw Tokino’s cheery smile was, and I hope he is doing all right.

My mind floats back to my last dance lesson again. I couldn’t help flinching when Koujaku touched me—and he looked at me with confusion first, then sadness in his eyes. I _hate_ to be pitied. He also asked me several times if I was being well-treated, and of course, I said yes. I couldn’t say anything else—though I hesitated to lie. Also—Aoba doesn’t watch me nearly as closely when Koujaku dances with me, so I wonder if he has given up on the instructor himself. I know Aoba loves him—his jealousy is what got me in trouble and made me suffer the last severe hairbrush spanking. I wonder if he didn’t know how severely I had been punished the day before. Was he not in the dining room when Akira and I were both punished? Perhaps he thought that was normal. At any rate, I’m glad he’s civil with me when he practices the steps I’ve learned.

Right now it's after lunch, I have been not permitted to dress for the day, so I am lounging naked and face down, my body draped over the chaise lounge and kicking my feet in the air, with the paper spread on the floor. Virus would call my posture unseemly, but it's comfortable and it's good for my skin to be in contact with the air. Plus, I'm alone, so no one can see me. The paper gets ink on my fingers and it has a strange, almost nostalgic smell to it. Virus hates inky fingers, so I am careful to groom them properly when he comes in. I wonder how that cat manages to read the paper every day and _not_ get ink on his hands.

Today is Thursday, and Saturday’s social event is advertised in the paper. It’s a vague-sounding advertisement. It shows a photo of the school, which looks quite nice, and says, “Open House at Applebaum’s Finishing School: Join us for the evening and get to know our talented students.” It lists the date, June 1, and the time, starting at 4 PM. I do wonder how many people will be in attendance and whether I will be able to make it through the day without offending the headmaster.

And Trip—he’s been horrible. He keeps walking in on me and petting me, stroking my body and smelling me, licking my ears when I don’t see him there—generally frightening me. It’s almost as if he is jealous of Virus’ attention. Or perhaps he wishes I would stay in his room. The thought _terrifies_ me.

While my thoughts are running wild and free—and I should be studying current events—I hear hoofbeats in the courtyard. I really want to stand up and see who is visiting, but I am naked and would hate to be exposed at the window. The open air is quite nice on my bruised skin. I still have marks from the hairbrush Sunday night—and all night long—several sharp welts and bruises, in addition to the paddle. But I have done well not to disobey so much to warrant anything more than a rap to my knuckles or a single spank on the butt. Virus is careful to treat my skin twice each day, and this morning, I noticed he too was smelling me in a rather intense way. 

I do feel warm today, so maybe my sweat is making my scent stronger—but the air is nice outside and it’s late May. Perhaps the fever and aches I woke up with is a result of allergies. I’ve noticed a slight itchy feeling in my body, most likely unrelated to the malaise I’ve been feeling. This feeling tends to make my dreams rather fantastic—and I’ve dreamed of Rai several times—even once ejaculating in the night while I was in bed with Virus. He noticed, of course, and commented smugly that I must soon be in season, much to my complete mortification.

Someone is paying a visit, however—and a piece of my heart lifts for just a second. Perhaps it’s Prince Rai, come to save me from the weekend’s public torture and the execution of my virginity. Although with what has been done to me since I have been here, I feel far from virginal.

In an instant, I quash those thoughts. I know it can’t be Rai, because he will be seeing me in two days. And also, if it _isn’t_ him, I won’t be able to handle the disappointment. I let my head hang off the edge of the chaise, brushing the soles of my feet together. My ass and thighs are still a little sticky from their treatment, and I will be punished if I get any salve on the furniture. I let my arms dangle off the edge and push the newspaper around a little while.

But suddenly, the door opens. I look up and see Trip.

“You’re not exactly dressed to receive visitors,” he comments, checking out my ass and legs more than thoroughly. I can feel his eyes crawling all over me, and it frightens (and revolts) me.

“No, sir. I was not permitted clothing today,” I reply quietly, looking up from my paper.

“Get up. Get your uniform on, now. And here—take this.”

Again? Another pill? I take it and the water he presses into my hands, swallowing the pill and then letting him press around in my mouth. Each time he gives me medication, his fingers spend more time feeling around inside my mouth, pulling on my tongue. 

“Your mouth is so soft and warm,” he mutters in my ear, helping me off the chaise. “I wonder if that is what you will feel like—inside—as well. I can’t wait to sample you myself.” He brushes my ass to let me know what he means. 

My ears bristle to his unpleasant words, and he sits down on the sofa to watch me dress. My clothes are in the wardrobe, but I have to fetch them and dress in front of him. I do this every day—either before him or Virus or both—and every night when I undress as well. I can’t seem to get used to it.

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

To my dismay, I am brought to a room very much like the one in which I received Arbitro. I shiver when I enter this room, and I look up at Trip, hoping this is a mistake. This room is covered in sumptuous cream-colored silk bedding on its canopy bed, and the velvet curtains block out a lot of the light. He opens the curtains, revealing bars on the window, and checks the stock of the bar.

“Wait here. Be polite and obedient. This guest is very important and you are not to resist him or disappoint him.” Trip walks to the door.

“Um, what if he, um, wants me to do something I know Virus doesn’t want me to do?”

“You heard me. Obey or be punished.”

Trip leaves and I hear another two pairs of footsteps approaching. I also hear Virus talking in a fast, urgent tone.

“This is a highly unusual request, sir. I’m sure not even your brother asked for this sort of privilege.”  
  
A low voice I am thrilled to hear sinks into my ears and straight to my hips. It’s Rai. It _was_ him!

“Koujaku didn’t bring you the king of Sisa to this little social event, either, nor the extra bonus I dropped off today,” he growls impatiently. “You will have more press as you can handle. This is the least courtesy you could extend to me.”

“Of course, sir. It’s not my intention to decline. We are indeed grateful for your interest, but I have to ask you to please not spoil the merchandise before the social.”

“I don’t intend to spoil anything,” Rai stops walking and snaps at Virus in a commanding tone. “My intention is to assure his well-being. If I am going to take an interest in a student of your institution, I’d better be sure I’m getting what I pay for.”

“O-of c-course, Your Grace,” Virus stammers—and I have _never_ heard him stammer before. “Oh, I mean, sir. Sorry, sir.”

The steps approach the door and I am feeling nervous. Do I stand up at least? Get down on my knees? I’m not sure of the etiquette. I’ve always stood and shook hands with him in the past—or allowed him to kiss my hand—so groveling on the floor probably isn’t a good idea. It doesn’t feel natural.

“Right through here, sir. He has lessons to finish—” And again Virus is interrupted by a deep but quiet growl and stops short. “I mean, please enjoy yourself. I’m at your disposal, sir.” 

The room door opens rather roughly and I scramble to my feet nervously.

I can’t help the ridiculous smile on my face in greeting—nor the blush rising to my ears as soon as I recall my latest fantasy of him. He takes my breath away—and while I know I should lower my face, I don’t lower my eyes. I have to drink him all in—because _this_ is what will get me through the next two days.

“Kitten,” his voice purrs—like honey dripping into my ears. Has his voice always sounded so sultry? I can’t remember. But it makes my knees weak. And when he enters the room and closes the door firmly behind him, leaving Virus safely on the other side, my nose is flooded with his scent—pine, clean, fresh snow, and something else like sandalwood. He smells so good—and why can I smell him from here? It’s odd. “So good to see you again.”

Long strides step over to me and he grasps my hand. He bows to me, looking up at my face while kissing my hand—and today, he kisses the tips of each of my fingers, too—making me shiver and a heavy sensation fill my stomach. That such a simple touch would have such a devastating effect blows my mind. When he is this close to me, my vision shakes a little.

“Are you unwell? Please, sit with me.” Rai urges me to sit next to him on the couch. Being so close to him makes my vision fade and shake again. A soft touch to my burning ears and soft rubs between them makes a loud purr spill from my mouth.

“I see. I wondered if you might also be suffering from symptoms. Mine have come early, kitten.”

“Symptoms of what?” I manage. 

“The mating season, of course. I have been thinking of you constantly this week, and I couldn’t wait till the event to see you. And also,” he takes both my hands in his. He feels so strong and powerful—and just so safe, “I wanted to be sure you were being treated well.”

“B-but didn’t you tell Virus you wanted to ensure what you were paying for?” I ask, my ears lowered. I’m nervous he will want to inspect me, the same way Arbitro did. The prospect frightens me, but I have decided I will allow it. I will allow him to touch me anyway he wants if it means he might take me out of here. 

“I did—in order to let me in to see you,” he answers, continuing to stroke my ears. “But what we _actually_ do in here is no one’s business.”

So what does he want? Does he want me to take off my clothes? Really, that doesn’t sound so bad, at least not today.

“How do you want me?” I whisper, unable to keep the heat from my voice.

Rai’s ears perk up on the top of his head, and he looks at me closely.

“They are, um, auctioning off your virginity this weekend, aren’t they?”

I’m not quite sure how to answer that. I mean, yes, that is the intention. But am I technically still a virgin?  
  
“Um, I’m not sure what you mean,” I say, and his eyes narrow.

“Has something happened since Sunday?” 

“Well, a lot of things have happened…”

“Anything, er, violent? Or sexual?”

My fur fluffs out defensively, betraying my calm face. I have to look away. 

“I don’t know how much I’m allowed to say.”

“Well, maybe don’t speak at all, then. Can you show me?”

“Show you… what?” My body is really heating up—is he wanting to look at me in that way, then? Does he want to see my body? The prospect is oddly enticing. I can hardly refuse when he smells so nice.

“If you have been punished, I want to see what they have done to you. You don’t have to say anything.”  
  
“Punished?” I ask. “H-how d-did you know?” Am I limping or something? I haven’t really even walked anywhere, at least not within his view.

“Show me.”

“I-i’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I murmur. I am worried that Virus will punish me if I allow him to do something to me that will compromise my virginity. But I was also told to obey. I don't know how to behave!

“Are you refusing me?” And his tone implies that I am, indeed, disobeying him. Trip told me to obey him, and he could get me in big trouble if I don’t. But my skin is in pretty bad shape.

“I, um, I don’t want to, um, upset you.” I look away, and my chin is nudged.

“Shall I check myself?” His other hand moves toward my cravat and pulls it off my neck.

“Um—I really don’t think—” I am trying to refuse, but my hands won’t even let me stop him.

“Hush. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“N-no—and I believe you! B-but…”

“But what?” His voice is so nice and silky—and I want him to touch me so much. I wish he would kiss me again.

“B-but V-virus will p-punish me.”

“Has he already?”  
  
“Um, I shouldn’t say.”

“If you don’t want to show me, I won’t force you. But I need to know. On Sunday, after I left, were you punished?”

“Um, yes.” I can’t look at him.

“For what infraction? You were perfect—and I let Virus know how I felt.” He sounds slightly irritated, but I am not looking at his face. It's hard to read his feelings from his voice alone.

“It didn’t have to do with you. Akira—another charity student—was angry with me.”

“Was it the small, fit silver-haired cat? With that… um, interesting skill?”

How does he even _know_ about that? He hasn’t seen it himself, has he? Maybe Koujaku told him?

“Um, yes. That is Akira,” I look at him sideways for a moment before continuing. He is demanding that I continue.  
  
“Tell me what happened. Why was Akira upset?”

“Because he heard me singing to you.”  
  
“What? You weren’t singing loud enough for it to carry to the school. Was he spying on us?”

“No! Of course not. It’s just—well, I sang to him once. And once I sing to a Touga—”

“Akira is a Touga?” Rai interrupts.

“He was trained as one, yes. I guess once I sing to a Touga, my voice, um, echoes in his heart. I don’t know how long that will last, but Akira was upset with me for singing to you. He thought I should want to be with him. He thinks, um…”  
  
“What does he think?”  
  
“He says you have a reputation for violence, and he is afraid of you.”

Rai doesn’t say anything for a moment, but he presses his lips together. I notice he does not deny his reputation, and that is obvious.

“And if I did have such a reputation?”

“I don’t believe it,” I say—but part of me is slightly afraid.

“It’s why I was surprised to hear you wanted me to train you. You don’t know anything about me, do you?”  
  
“I, um, only know that you have been _kind_ to me—ever since you first met me. You treated me with kindness and tenderness a violent person would never have. It… _affected_ me.”

“I see.”

“Did I misinterpret your intentions toward me?” I ask, almost desperate now. “Even if you are… as I have heard, um, violent, I know you would be fair. Much fairer than… um.. well…”

“Fairer than what?” He asks. I have to answer. I do not have a choice to decline that question.

“M-much fairer than the headmaster has been.”  
  
“He has been unfair to you?”

“I think so. He said my, um, training would be rigorous, so I expected to work hard. But I didn’t expect to be treated like this.”  
  
“He has been cruel?”

“Um, well, he would deny it. He calls it _training_.”

“You have not told me what instigated that punishment Sunday. I could feel something was wrong on my way home, but I wrote it off as needless anxiety. I never thought I would be able to hear you—even from my home. You were treated cruelly?” 

“Well, Akira dragged me off to the forest after you left, angry with me, insisting that I pay him attention and decline your advances. He knows of a patch of, well, catnip in the forest and brought me there. He… proceeded to kiss me and touch me in ways that the headmaster found inappropriate. I also, um, sang for him.” I feel incredibly guilty when I see Rai’s expression. He looks hurt.

“Did he fuck you?” 

“N-not, um, penetratively?” I say, my voice quiet and tentative. “B-but I could not resist! Between my exhaustion, the pills they have been feeding me, and the direct effect of the catnip, I couldn’t resist!”

“What pills?”

“Trip makes me take a pill before I see you.”

“An aphrodisiac?”

“I think so.”  
  
“Does it work?”

That’s a weird question—and again, I’m not sure how I should answer. Why is he asking that now?

“I can’t really tell,” I admit.

Rai lifts his eyebrows questioningly.

“I feel the same whenever I see you—even that first time we met. And I hadn't been given a pill then.”

“I see. So what happened after the small silver kitten molested you?” 

“Virus was very angry. He punished me.” I don’t know how much detail he wants, so I stop there.

“How did he punish you, exactly?” A growl laces the large cat’s voice. 

“Um, he beat me with a hairbrush—every half hour, and then every hour, and then every two, throughout the night until dawn.”

“ _Despite_ the fact that you were drugged? That the _other_ kitten started it?” He sounds appalled.

“Akira can feel my pain,” I say quietly. I fight tears in my eyes. “And he was punished as well, given to his least favorite customer—our fencing instructor—for the night.”

“And you were punished all night?”

“And in the morning, only, um, publicly. Virus, um, used ginger.”

“Ginger?”

“Um, he had Trip, um, kind of insert it before my last beating, which was performed on both of us in front of the entire student body at breakfast.” I _really_ do not want to meet Rai’s eyes now. And he is quiet— _deathly_ quiet. I feel a silent rage building in him. I am _sure_ I am spoiled for him now. I am almost afraid to ask, but I do just the same. “I am not, as such, completely untouched. Does this, um, spoil me for you?”

Rai takes a deep breath, and it seems to have a strange effect on me. It feels like he is exchanging the air in the room with his own breath—which smells sweet and tempting. I’m starting to sweat, and I think I also have increased my scent. But I’m so utterly ashamed that I can’t look at his face. Instead, I stare down at the hands in my lap, trying not to fidget, since that is _unseemly_.

“It does not. But it breaks my heart. Your treatment—I knew something was wrong and I could not tell what it was. I could feel your pain, too.”  
  
“Do you live close by?”

“No. I live outside Ransen.”

My ears perk up, and I jerk up my face in surprise. But I cast my eyes down immediately after meeting his eye.

“You’ve been mistreated since that morning, too, haven’t you?”

“I have had the hairbrush since then, yes. But I have been doing better the past few days—deserving only mild punishment or humiliation.”

I feel that soft touch on my chin again, and Rai lifts up my face. I am still too ashamed to meet his gaze, but he brushes my chin with his fingers.

“Don’t sing for the kitten again. Sing only for me.”

The words surprise me. He isn’t going to give up on me? I bravely meet his gaze now.

“I didn’t mean to sing for him originally. I was just ordered to sing, and I think because he was the only Touga in the room at the time, he heard my song differently than others.” 

“It's all right. I believe you. From now on, I don’t want you to sing for another soul _except_ me. Can you do that?”

“I only want to sing for you,” I insist, the back of my throat heating up and my eyes burning. “Will you train me? I will submit to any treatment you think I warrant, and I will make up for my mistake.” 

Rai sighs softly, brushing my cheek. He closes his eye briefly before he continues.

“You have not made any mistakes. Konoe, you are a _Sanga_. You are not to be fenced in and forced into submission. This goes against your nature. Even if Virus has never trained as a Touga, he can feel this resistance from you, even when you hide it. If you come with me, yes, I will train you. But I can’t get you out of here before the weekend.”

My heart sinks slightly and tears spill down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry. I will take you with me on Saturday. Can you wait two more days?”

“I will do whatever you ask. I will give you my life.”

“Kitten, I do not ask for your life. I ask only for your patience.”

Suddenly, I’m nervous about what I have told Rai about my treatment here. Will he rebuke Virus and Trip? And will I suffer as a result?

“M-may I ask a favor?”

Rai nods.

“P-please, say n-nothing to Virus about what I have told you.”

“You don’t wish for better treatment?” Rai seems surprised.

“No, I do—but I think if you reprimand them, they will take it out on me and lock me in the tower. I, um, don’t wish to go through that again.”

“The tower? The one right here?” Rai motions with his chin. 

“I was, um, trained there—on what might be expected of me on Saturday.”

Rai’s fur bristles slightly, and his pupil dilates.

“They violated you as well? Forcefully?”

“Yes. I did not please either of them. I-i am afraid I m-may not please you, either, sir.”

“Did you not hear my words on Sunday?” Rai asks, his voice slightly sharper. “When I told you there is nothing you could be made to do that would make me hold you in any less regard, I meant it. There is nothing you could do to make me think less of you.”

“I am sure _I_ could manage to displease you, sir,” I say, dropping my gaze.

“Argumentative as always, I see,” Rai says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I apologize,” I say immediately.

“It isn’t necessary. That's a good sign. I like this spirit of yours. You will need to hide it for two more days. And I will take you with me.”

How can he make me a promise like that, I wonder? Is he planning something? 

“You look as though you doubt me,” he purrs softly—into my ear, making my fur ruffle. 

“O-of c-course not,” I whisper.

“You ought to listen to what you have heard about me and my profession before you doubt me. I may ask you to sing for me on Saturday.”  
  
“I would love to.”

“In the capacity for battle. Can you do that, kitten? Support me should I require it?”

“I will do my best.”

“I know you will.” Rai moves in a bit closer and kisses my lips. A strange numbing heat rushes through my body when our lips touch—and I relax and lean into it, reaching out my hands to his shoulders, brushing his hair lightly. My heart leaps in my chest and it’s beating hard in my throat. I want to go with him now—and more, I want him to _stay_ with me. “Will you stay with me?”

Rai sighs.

“I was told _not_ to damage the merchandise,” he says, his tone slightly flippant. Then, he scoops me up and moves me to the bed. My heart is racing and I’m unsure of what to do. I kiss him again and feel him untucking my shirt from my pants and reaching for my belt. “But you seem to be slightly desperate.”

“I am, sir.” I haven’t been allowed release—and have been finding it in my dreams. Those dreams about _him_. “I will do anything you like.”

“I’d like to wait till you are in the peak of your heat for that, kitten.”

My ears droop sadly, and Rai chuckles.

“Don’t make that face! That doesn’t mean I will leave you in this state.” 

A shiver rushes through me, bristling my fur, and fresh beads of sweat pop up on my skin.

“I, um, I don’t know what to do!” I hiss softly when his hands glide over my abdomen and up my chest beneath my clothes. 

“Just relax.”

“Huh?” A slightly confused sound slips from my lips.

“You don’t have to do _anything_. Just _relax_.” His hands move to my belt—and I shiver in delight and anxiety. My breath catches when my pants are unbuttoned and unzipped, and the silver cat settles between my legs. His hands sneak underneath my hips—one cupping my cheeks over my trousers—which are still very tender—and the other grasping at the base of my tail.

I keen in delight when he lowers his mouth to my underwear and huffs hot breath against my nearly painfully erect cock. I want… _him_. But I am not sure what it is I want. Surely—he will not do to me what Virus forced me to him? He's a prince, for gods' sake. But that thought—and his lips pressing against me and holding me securely—make a longing, keening meow slip from my lips.

“Please…” I beg softly, tears at the corners of my eyes.

He pulls the waistband of my underwear down with his teeth, freeing my cock from the restraints of clothing. My ears burn with heat—and I want to cringe—but it feels so good I can’t help myself. My knees bend and I pull up my legs on either side of his body, hugging him close. Should I close my eyes? But I _can’t_ —he looks so gorgeous and yet so incongruous with his eye meeting my gaze so boldly and his tongue lapping at my cock. My body jerks excessively at the touch.

“Just relax. I won’t hurt you, kitten. Hurting you is the furthest thing from my mind.”

I twitch just the same when he squeezes my ass with his hand, and I am purring obscenely loud. I watch as he swallows my cock whole—sucking me, lapping with his tongue indulgently. I am sighing and moaning, and the sounds coming from my mouth and his—those wet, soft sounds—are so embarrassing yet so arousing! I can hardly stand it.

My chest aches, my heart beating painfully. Before I realize what is happening, a soft sound reverberates through my skin and through my flesh—and a submissive song floods the room. It’s as if he has pulled the song from me—like he did Sunday—and this song is different than the helpless one I sang then. It is vulnerable and at his mercy but laced with desire and want.

Again—I feel exposed—even more exposed than I do with my pants down and my dick in his mouth, and I try to squeeze my legs together defensively. I can tell my emotions are laid bare before him, and his ears twitch—his tail bristles and sways back and forth wantonly. I _want_ him. And I want him to have _me_.

It’s only a few minutes before I feel my desire building to more than I can control and I start to panic—trying to push him away so I won’t come in his mouth. But he holds me in place with his hands—one controlling my tail and the other pushing my hips into the bed—and I feel like he is actually pulling a climax from my body, just like he pulled that song from me.

When I come, I gasp and moan—and that small helpless meow is laced throughout the sounds I make. My vision flashes white and my mind goes blank—and I am left with an incredible feeling of pleasure flooding my body, into the tips of my ears and the tip of my tail, followed by a delightful relaxation and relief such as I have never felt. 

I shudder and shiver when he licks my cock after I have come—but paralyzing weakness floods my body and I cannot move. Even if I want to touch him, I cannot move. 

“Hmm. Do you always get so relaxed after you sing?”

“Um, I’m not sure this is _only_ the result of my song,” I protest softly.

“But you are paralyzed—your limbs are heavy. You can’t be comfortable like this.” Rai lifts up my leg and it doesn’t move. He moves from his position and pulls my body so it is flat on the bed, and then climbs up to kiss my lips. “You are incredibly precious. And _that_ is the song I would want to hear from you on Saturday.”

“I can’t move anymore—I can’t, um, meet _your_ needs,” I say softly, embarrassed and flushing. My pants are pulled up and zipped, and my belt is buckled. He leaves my shirt untucked.  

“You _did_ meet my needs—today. Saturday I might expect more from you. Would you be willing to give it?”  
  
“I will do anything you like,” I purr softly. I want to touch his ears and his tail—and I want to feel his body against me. I need… _something_. “Please—don’t go. I need…”  
  
He looks at me carefully, his eye resting on my very pink ears.

“You need grooming,” he says suddenly and leans down to lick my ears. His tongue is rough and the touch makes me shiver, but I can’t escape that tender touch. “Don’t sing for another soul. Save your song only for me.”

I drift off to sleep while he grooms me—even despite the shivering. It feels so nice and tender. I feel desired and fulfilled—and slightly frightened of what is to come on Saturday. But whatever it is, I will comply—if it’s this silver cat. I would do _anything_ for him. 

* * *

 

After the blonde falls asleep, the prince continues grooming his ears and face. He is a precious asset—a precious _partner_ —and the feeling is strange and new to the hunter who has worked alone for so many years. But that song—he can’t ignore the song. It sinks into his ears and echoes in his heart—and finally, that anxiety he’s been experiencing for the past five days settles.

Whatever it takes, this kitten is _his_. But for now, he has to leave him here—defenseless and vulnerable. He is most unhappy about this situation. 

Rai climbs up from the bed and fixes his clothes before leaving the kitten behind. He moves him onto his side, watching as that bewitching tail automatically curves around his body. His ears twitch and he purrs in his sleep. His body is so helpless.

But the silver cat can't wait till Saturday. For now, this is all he will do.

When he opens the door to the bedroom, he’s surprised to find the small, silver-haired cat waiting in the hallway—the same cat who had been giving him dirty looks on Sunday. He looks extremely displeased and meets Rai’s eye with shocking ferocity. Gorgeous aqua-colored eyes—messy silver hair and fur, just asking to be groomed and stroked—the prince is taken aback when he sees the ferocious look on his face.

_Perfect for my brother. He couldn't be anymore Nano's type. He won’t be able to resist. Perhaps it will be enough for him to help me and get this silver kitten out of here as well._

“Were you waiting for me?” Rai asks. “I’m Rai. You must be Akira.”

A hiss escapes the smaller cat’s mouth, and he bares his fangs. He isn’t armed, but he looks like he is ready to fight, his shapely form strung like taut like a bow.

“What did you do to him? He is _special_. You’d better not have hurt him!”

“Did it _sound_ like I was hurting him to you?” Rai asks sharply, and the smaller cat flinches for just a second. He flinches as though he expects to be handled roughly or with violence, and that would be heartbreaking—if Rai weren’t about to leave his own precious kitten behind in this place. What exactly do the headmaster and his oaf of a lackey do to these kittens to make them behave like this? 

“N-no.”

“Shut up, relax, and listen to me. You need to keep away from my Sanga and watch him from a distance. Make sure he is safe. But your presence will not be helpful to him.”  
  
“ _Your_ Sanga?” Akira growls. “Who made him _yours_?”

“Didn’t you _hear_ his song just now? I assume you couldn't help listening.”  
  
The small cat’s ears droop slightly and his posture slumps a little.

“You _won’t_ flinch from me—nor from my brother when I introduce you on Saturday. He will purchase your services.”

Akira meets his gaze.

“Your brother?”

“Yes. He will be here on Saturday and you are just his type. He will enjoy your… talent. You should be sure to put it to good use with him.”

“How do _you_ know about my talent?” Akira asks, confused.

Rai rolls his eyes.

“Just do it.”  
  
“But Aoba—”

“My _other_ brother,” Rai clarifies. “ _Not_ Koujaku. Although he will be in attendance as well.”

Akira shuts his mouth—realizing now to whom the prince is referring. He has a look of disbelief on his face.

“Not being sold off to that fencing instructor should please you, I’d think.”

Akira bristles at the remark and then lowers his ears.

“How do you even know about that?” He asks quietly.

“That doesn’t matter. Am I correct in my judgment?”

“I don’t know your brother but he’s got to be better than Shiki.”

Rai’s ears twitch at the name. Shiki—it can’t be the same Touga _he_  met back then. He has a teaching position— _here_? He is the one exposed to all these kittens? What the hell is the headmaster thinking?  
  
“Is the Sanga taking the fencing class?”  
  
“Of course not,” Akira says.

“Make sure he does _not_ come across Shiki.”

“I would never!” Akira replies, offended. And then he looks more closely at Rai. “What are your intentions toward the kitten? After his debut, he will be open season here.”  
  
“That won’t happen,” Rai says, “as he will be training with me.”

“Is this what _he_ wants? You’re _not_ known for your kindness.”

“I’m not. But he is… different. _Special_.” Rai watches Akira’s expression when he says those words, and they seem to satisfy him. “Get out of here before someone catches you. Surely you have some other place to be.”

Akira obeys—almost despite himself—and then throws a disrespectful and non-submissive glance over his shoulder, as if to say, “I’m going, but _not_ because you told me to. I’m going to protect the kitten in that room.”

Rai wanders toward the lobby, settling his fur which he hadn’t realized he’d bristled. He knocks on Virus’ office and opens it without waiting.

“Ah,” Virus says, standing up from behind the desk. “Did the kitten meet your expectations?”

“Your office is adjacent to the room I was just in. You should know the answer to that question.”

“And you left him… undamaged?”

Rai tilts his head slightly.

“What did it sound like to you? And are you sure _you’re_ the one who should be asking me that?”

Virus bristles his fur defensively. This is a cat who rarely responds to threats and Rai wasn’t actually threatening him. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean no more or no less than what I said.”

“What we do here, Your Highness,” Virus sneers, “is considered _training_. It’s a tried and true method. If you don’t like it, feel free to find your amusement elsewhere.”

“Ah, but do you really mean that?” Rai asks, keeping his voice smooth and neutral. “Do you really wish for me to take my brothers and the press who accompanies them _elsewhere_?”

“We do what works. And that kitten is not a submissive one.”

“He _shouldn’t_ be. As a Sanga, it is not his role to be submissive. If you continue treating him the way you have been, your so-called discipline will backfire and he will stop singing. If you break his spirit, he will not be able to sing.”

“That may very well be,” Virus returns. “However, we have certain standards in place for a reason, and _no_ student is an exception to our rules. He must learn to obey.”

“I will be making an offer you cannot refuse on Saturday,” Rai continues. “I highly suggest you consider the fact that this student is not a good fit here.”

“Oh, but he is! He has generated interest already—even among demons!”

Rai bristles slightly when he hears this. 

“You do know what I do for a profession, don’t you?”

“Of course. We’re glad to have you. I hope your profession won't interfere with the auction.”

“I hope it doesn't. My reputation isn’t unearned.”

“And neither is our school’s. You won’t be disappointed.”

Rai turns to leave and looks over his shoulder at Virus one last time.

“I have given the kitten specific instructions _not_ to sing for anyone but me until he sees me again. If you have commanded him to obey me, please keep this in mind. I will find out if my instructions are not obeyed, and I will hold you responsible, as the headmaster here.”

Virus swallows thickly.

"I can hear him when I'm not present as well." 

"Like at your home?" Virus looks shocked and nervous.

"Yes. He doesn't have to be singing for me to hear his voice."

“My gods. Of course.” 

Rai nods and walks out of the door.

“No need to see me out. I know my way.”

“Thank you for your patronage,” Virus says. Once he no longer hears Rai’s footsteps echoing in the hallway, he looks at the bag on his desk. He opens it and finds a pile of gold coins—Setsuran gold—the most valuable currency in Sisa. He had been given this and promised more, which is why he let the prince see the kitten. After that thinly veiled threat, Virus figures he’d better make sure he treats the little Sanga fairly the next two days. He hopes it doesn’t wreak havoc on his training, however.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angsty little update. I need to hurry along and get to the main event.
> 
> Needless to say, Konoe is starting to believe what he hears about himself and his future from Virus.

After Rai has left, Trip wakes me from my pleasant nap in the guest room and brings me into Virus' room. The guest room smelled so much nicer, I think.

Virus seems oddly concerned with the state of my body, and with Trip in the room as well, I am questioned rather closely about what happened with Rai. I’m not sure if what he did to me was allowed—although certainly I have been handled much worse by these two, and more invasively by Akira. I still hesitate to answer directly, and I can tell I’m raising both of their ire.

“Did he examine you?” 

“Um, not really.”

“Did he touch you? Did he take off your clothes?”

“Some of them, sir.”

“You know what I’m asking. Did he fuck you?”

“You do look much more relaxed than you were before, kitten,” Trip adds. 

“Wouldn’t I be agitated and sore if he fucked me? Sir?” I ask.

Virus and Trip both jerk their chins when I ask this question.

“What kind of upbringing have you had, exactly?” Virus asks.

“Could it be he’s the greenest kitten in the history of Applebaum's?” Trip mutters.

I don’t understand what _any_ of this has to do with my upbringing! Although something Rai told me on Sunday makes me think twice. Didn’t he say the school waits till the mating season to host these social events? And he said it was to make things less painful. I still don’t quite understand what he meant. But Akira said something about how much it hurts when you’re not in season—and if I understand that it works the way I think it does, I don’t understand how it could hurt _less_ during a particular time of year.

I feel so naive and out of the loop. If I am really being trained to please others with my body, shouldn’t I at least be taught _something_ about the act itself? I mean, how am I ever going to please anyone?! I feel a little guilty for what Rai did to me—mostly because I was so exhausted and I couldn’t reciprocate. Isn’t it my purpose to please _him_? If it is, I can’t see how what he did could have made him happy...

Then my mind wanders backward, combing through the strange, disjointed memories from the first time I spent the day in the tower. When Trip choked me—I was turned on. I was actually _excited_ by that. And I _hate_ Trip! So maybe… if it were with someone I liked, it might be fun? Maybe Rai wanted to make me feel like that for a reason? Maybe he _did_ enjoy himself— he said he was pleased, after all, even when I was too exhausted to do anything for him.

Am I being set up for a complete failure this weekend? Is the idea to have me know just enough, be aware of just enough, so I will be aware when I fail to please whichever guest wins my auction? A chill shudders down my spine, and I feel rage in my gut.

“He didn’t do anything worse than what has already been done to me!” I burst. 

“Ah—he finally collected on that debt—for the flowers? Just like I warned you he would?” Virus asks. When I still don’t reply—except for lowering my eyes—he clarifies, “He made you take him in his mouth?”

“Actually, no,” I state firmly. “ _Sir_. He pleasured _me_ that way.”

That shuts both of them up for a moment—but only a moment. Virus then continues, “Did you complain about your treatment here?”

“No, sir. I didn’t.”

“Did he see your injuries?”

“He asked me to show him—” and then I stop talking. I shouldn’t have said this. Because now, Virus is going to know I refused his request after specifically being told to obey.

“And?” Virus insists, glaring down at me. “I mean, if he served you, your clothes would have _had_ to come off. So? You stripped for him as he requested, didn’t you?”

“You obeyed him like I told you to, didn’t you?” Trip asks.

“I-i declined,” I hesitate to admit and then add quickly, “b-but I thought y-you’d b-be d-displeased if I complied!”

“Wait a moment,” Trip says. “He asked you to strip and you _refused_?”

“It w-wasn't exactly a refusal…”

“Well, did he see you or not?!” Virus asks, his voice much sharper than I want to hear.

“I-i d-didn’t want to upset him! I-it seems he already knew! I, um, think he c-can hear me.”

“What do you mean by that?” Trip asks.

“B-because I s-sang for him on Sunday,” I say, my face lowered. “I really didn’t mean to sing—I don’t know if it was allowed—but it was like he pulled the song out of me.”

When I glance up at Virus’ face—to gauge how much trouble I am in for singing—but I’m _sure_ he knew about my song. Didn’t Rai tell me on his way out that he hoped to hear me sing again? Virus still looks displeased, and against my better judgment, I continue foolishly, “I’m sure I mentioned I sang to him—in fact, the prince himself said that he was looking forward to hearing me sing again on his way out the door! And you must have seen that I referred to my song in the note I sent him…”

“And you sang for him again today? _Despite_ the fact that you were so severely punished for singing to Akira?” Virus asks. He is making me feel very stupid and even more naive.

“He pulls it from me!” I plead. “I don’t know how—but my guess is because he is a Touga and he can bring it out of me. And that was what he _wanted_ from me! It is my _talent_ after all, sir.” Tears burn in my eyes, but I feel angry and afraid rather than grief or regret. I’m so frustrated that I’m told to obey and am punished when I do or don't. I really don’t want any additional punishment. I _hate_ feeling so controlled, and I am starting to believe what Rai said about not fencing me in. To my dismay, my mouth opens and more words spill out. “Please! I was told to please him—and I did what he asked and sang for him—but I did not want to expose my injuries—” 

“Your skin is not _injured_ ,” Virus corrects me sternly. “That is _discipline_. You were disciplined! It's part of your training.” 

“I tried to explain that I was simply not doing well in training, sir, but he—”

“I’m sure a cat as privileged as the prince is would fill your head with unnecessary ideas,” Virus interrupts. “I’m aware that he does not approve of our methods here. They are valid, however—tried and true methods for training young kittens to make their way in the world. I warned you it would be rigorous, didn’t I?”

“You did—but I thought it would at least be _fair_ , sir!” My voice is much louder than I intended.

“I don’t know what pretty little words he whispered into your ear, or what you believe you are to him—but Konoe, he is a _client_! He will never be anything except one of _many_ customers you are destined to serve! Get that through your thick head! Haven’t you learned _anything_ from Aoba? He should have shared his own experience with you. And what do you think the prince is going to do? Take you _with_ him when he hunts? For gods’ sake, kitten—you are a _child_! He is a means to an end—and that is all!”

I press my lips together, and the tears burning in my eyes finally spill over. 

“But I…”

“You _what_? You are in _love_ with him? Kitten, that cat is the most dangerous bounty hunter in the land. He is the illegitimate son of this country's former king, and that is his half- _brother_ on the throne! He has been indulged his entire life and he has an appetite for violence! His reputation is earned—and he has even bested our own fencing instructor in combat. His entire bloodline is tainted with violence!”

“N-no…” 

“You’d better listen. Whatever promises he made to you—I mean, hell, if for some reason he ever requests you for an evening at his estate—and if you somehow manage to please him this weekend, he may take that next step—you will find out _firsthand_ what sort of brutal tastes he has! That is, if you manage to please him in _any_ way this weekend. He has _bribed_ us to make sure he wins your auction—and I swear to gods, I’ve never seen any cat so worked up about one of our students before. You will be lucky if you can walk the next day—even if you are both in heat and as compatible as you seem to be.”  
  
“B-but he was k-kind—” 

“ _Kind_?!” Virus barks. “You need to get your head out of the clouds and look to your future. You are _no one_ —you have no pedigree, no money, no land, no title. You are _nothing_ to him! You need to think of yourself and consider that you are no real match for him. His brother would _never_ allow any of his siblings to attach themselves to a commoner. If he does eventually purchase you outright, you will be his _slave_ , not his equal!” 

“Damn, kitten, you really don’t know anything about how the real world works, do you? It’s almost cute—if it weren’t so pathetic,” Trip growls quietly.

Despite the lovely, tender experience I shared with Rai this morning, I can’t deny any of the words that Virus and Trip are saying. I _am_ afraid that I am not enough—I’m not good enough, I don’t have anything of value. And yes, he said I am intriguing and that he likes my song, but I have no idea how much power—if any—I have. What if I _am_ just a pretty face to him? What if I’m a fling he is simply flirting with for the season?

Worse, what if he _is_ as violent as everyone says he is? What would I do then? How could I possibly ever defend myself against him? If he decides he wants to rape me on on Saturday, I know I could never fight him off. But I think—even then—even if he _did_ only see me as a slave, I’d still be more eager to please him than I ever would to please Virus and Trip. Or anyone else, for that matter!

“I love him,” I whisper through my tears.

“Love?! Don’t be _ridiculous_! You can’t possibly love a person you’ve only ever met twice—someone you’ve only spent three hours with him in your entire life! You have no idea who he really _is_!”

A small sob leaks from my throat. I am terribly wounded. If this is true and if he isn't who I think he is, I don’t want to believe it. Wouldn’t it be better for Virus to tell me that yes, Rai loves me and will be kind to me to enforce my good behavior this weekend? To make me my most charming? Why are they talking like this? It hurts!

“He loves you just as much as he needs to in order to gain your affections,” Virus continues. “He is _manipulating_ you—tempting you—playing on your hormones. Feel free to revel in the attention, since it definitely makes you more attractive. It shows off how innocent you really are. But I’d suspect after you spend the night with him, your feelings will change. And if his desire hasn’t been cooled, you’re going to be in for some _serious_ pain.”

Tears are falling freely down my cheeks—and my heart is sore and aching in my chest. But even still! He has to be better than this—better than this arbitrary violence that these two cats enjoy inflicting so much! I saw his face—I met his eyes—when he had me in his mouth. Even if he punished me, I would do _anything_  to see that look in his eye! I _know_ I could please him if given the chance. My jaw is set firmly, my teeth clenched, despite my quiet sobs.

“Listen,” Virus breathes deeply, brushing his fingers through my fur—and it feels _so_ wrong after Rai touched me, like he is brushing my fur backward. It’s almost painful! I know he means to be tender, but it feels all wrong! “Listen, we want what is _best_ for you. I don’t want you to end up heartbroken. I’m trying to give you a realistic idea of what to _expect_ , all right?” 

I don’t reply, and my chin is grabbed. Virus cranes my neck back awkwardly, forcing me to meet his gaze. I struggle to try to look at least a little submissive, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

“What’s with this defiant look?” My jaw is squeezed tight—and I am aware he could probably snap my neck if he wanted. “We want what is _best_ for you. You are in _our_ custody—in our _care_ —which is right where you will remain. You’d probably be much better suited for a life with the old tiger cat at the inn than you would be with a prince. You’re a _commoner_ through and through—even when we dress you up, teach you manners and etiquette, and educate you. You’d be better suited as a housekeeper than you _ever_ will be for a prince’s companion. He would tire of you so quickly and leave you to his staff. Do you think you would you _enjoy_ that? Being the  _plaything_ of a bounty hunter’s staff?” 

“N-no, sir,” I stammer softly, trying to lower my gaze submissively. But in reality, I am denying his words—I’m not answering his question. I would much rather leave my care and wellbeing to this kindhearted prince than I would to these psychopaths!

“Plus, I predict that the prince’s brother, the dance instructor, the devil tailor, and Arbitro will all be eager to get their hands on you, after your debut. You have _excellent_ prospects. I’m sure the owner of that inn and our fencing instructor would love to sample your charms.”

“And you won’t be going _anywhere_ —at least not for any extended period of time,” Trip adds.

I feel devastated—but my mind is made up. They can say _whatever_ they want—and it wounds me to hear, and yes, it worries me, too. I _know_ I’m not good enough. But still! I will do _anything_. And he _promised_!

But what if he means he only wants to take me home with him for a few days? What if he _is_ abusive—after he gets me to agree? I would fall for him and submit to his desires, no matter how painful or depraved, even for a slim chance of tenderness. 

I don’t argue anymore. I’m shocked I haven’t earned myself a punishment from my attitude—and I wonder if it’s because Rai had words with them before he left today.

“Come with me,” Virus says, dragging me out of the bedroom down the hall to his office. He pushes me inside and forces me against the desk. I feel so vulnerable and frightened now—I'm sure I will be punished—as he bends over the back of my body and presses himself against me. I feel I may be crushed under his weight.

But he leans over me heavily in order to grab a bag on his desk. He shoves it in front of my face—and I see… _gold_. More gold coins than I have ever seen in my life are in that bag—more than I could have ever expected to see throughout the rest of my life as well. What is this?  
  
“S-sir? P-please, sir,” I beg, trembling nervously and confused. 

“Have you ever _seen_ so much gold? This is what your _beloved_ prince has exchanged for your virginity. You have been _sold_ —your _body_ has been _sold_! The man you think you love has offered this money—and a promise of more—as well as his half-brother king’s patronage—in order to _buy_ you. You’re nothing more than a _commodity_ , kitten.”

The gold is a significant blow—but I already knew Rai bribed Virus to see me. I knew it when he came in today. And yet—he _still_ treated me tenderly and with care. I don’t know for sure that he isn’t trying to trick me. I really don’t! And the quantity I see shimmering in the bag is certainly more than I expected.

But in a way—doesn’t this _assure_ me, too? He really desires me—he doesn’t want to see me go to anyone else. He made me promise not to sing for anyone else but him. I _know_ he desires me—and this is proof. Virus might mean to discourage and dishearten me. But I know the truth.

Either that, or I am hopelessly lusting after a gorgeous cat who will never truly be mine. But even so—even if it is for a single night… and it pains me to even imagine that he might have lied or deceived me—I will do _whatever_ he wants—and I will gladly submit to his wishes. No matter how violent—I know he will reward me, too. I know he will treat me with a little tenderness.

He _groomed_ me this morning. He saw to my physical needs—required nothing from me in return except that I relax and enjoy his touch—and then he actually _groomed_ me. I haven’t experienced that sort of tenderness—ever. What is the point of grooming if not to show genuine affection? Even if he punishes me—even if I fail to please him—I will _still_ have that memory, and there is nothing _anyone_ can do or say to change that fact. 

However, given the state of affairs and my current lack of submission, I have to be smart. I nod my head slowly—still fascinated with the amount of gold in that bag—does he really think me worth _that_ much? I do feel treasured—and that in itself is a fucked up idea. Slavery does not exist anymore in Sisa, does it? It’s merely a bribe—to ensure that no one else ends up with me.

“I understand, sir,” I say quietly and as submissively as possible. I try to apologize and try to say I was mistaken—but I just can’t bring myself to do it.

“I’m glad, kitten. We don’t like to see kittens get their hearts broken around here.” My ass is stroked in an overly friendly way. “Your assets will get you far in this world—and I will teach you how to use them to your best advantage. But you need to keep your expectations realistic.”

I nod, cringing when I feel his fingers sliding up the inside of my thighs. My fur bristles and I struggle not to pull my legs together. 

“Now. Let’s calm down and go back to my room.”

Once we return to his chamber, Virus demands I strip—and my ears lower and my tail sags. I don’t want to—but I know I have no choice. He is also quite particular about how quickly I take off my clothes, telling me to slow down and make it pretty—my ears heat up but I am not nearly as mortified as I have been.

Is this a good thing?

In all honesty, lying naked in Virus’ room isn’t nearly as serious of a punishment as it was only two weeks ago, or even one week ago. I don’t like Virus and Trip staring at my body, but I understand I have no choice—and I do have something I am looking forward to in two days.

Part of me wonders if I will end up a different person than I intended to be. Surely, my life here is completely different than it was in Karou. My modesty is completely shot, and so is my sense of self-control. As I lie here, I start fantasizing a bit about what my life might be like with the silver cat.

_You don’t know anything about me._

I’m _sure_ that’s what he said. The base of my spine tickles a little when I remember his words. They were almost issued as a threat—as though he had nefarious plans for me. But then, the nefarious plans that await me _after_ my debut at this very school are too much to bear. I know that both Virus and Trip have it out for me—and part of me worries about Verg, Arbitro and even Bardo, too. Is it true that I will be, as Aoba said, “open season”? What about the other students?

Regardless, I’d be willing to submit myself to whatever Rai wants in order to get out of here. It’s fine by me if he has a little violence in mind—it can’t _possibly_ be as extreme as what I’ve already been through. After seeing him this morning, I know he desires me and that whoever I’ve become right now pleases him. I need to be sure to keep it that way.

To a large part, I feel like his tender touch was just a dream or fantasy. I mean—it was even _better_ than the dreams and fantasies my brain has been filled with the past few days. But I’m so relaxed and relieved now—even several hours later, and after this horrible discussion with Virus and Trip.

Once my clothes come off, however, I am subjected to an intrusive exam—involving my lower half without any clothing. He seems pleased with me, however, when he examines me. I can't help remembering Akira's state, after he spent the night with that customer, and how sore he was. They had to hold him down despite his exhaustion. I shudder with horror. 

I am surprised, since I was half expecting another beating—but the afternoon has gone by quickly and I haven’t had any significant discipline, besides an occasional sharp slap to my butt.

Will Rai beat me as well? Is that my lot in life? Even if he does, I figure he will be reasonable and fair—even if he’s violent. But what if I can’t sing for him? Or if I embarrass him this weekend? Or if I fail to please him… sexually? Would he punish me then? I feel I would deserve it, and I would willingly take whatever he wanted to dish out—but again, I don’t really know him. Maybe I my expectations _are_ too high.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday, the day before the social. Konoe continues dance lessons and then is given a "beauty treatment," which turns out to be a little more embarrassing that he expected.

Friday—the day before the social—turns out to be a horrible day. The only way I manage to get through it is by keeping in mind I will see the prince tomorrow.

While I’m allowed to sleep in, when I wake in the morning I’m sure I must be ill. My body is even hotter and sweatier than it was yesterday—and I ache all over. When Virus wakes me, I feel like I can barely get out of bed.

“Deal with it, kitten. You’re not ill. This is a good sign, actually.”  
  
I flatten my ears to his insensitive remark and I wait for him to explain himself. He doesn’t, however. Instead, he pulls the sheets off my body, drags me to the edge of the bed, and smacks my ass. _Hard_.

I yelp—even though he only used his hand, my skin is sensitive. Tears appear in my eyes, and I am frightened—especially since I’m now in the prime position for Virus’ favorite form of discipline.

“One more day till we serve you up to our clients, kitten. I was hoping you’d be somewhat more obedient today. I don't think we should welt your ass unless it's absolutely required.”

“I-i’m s-sorry, sir,” I stammer fearfully. “M-my body aches, and I feel like I have a fever.”

Virus glides his hands over my lower back, tail, and ass. The touch feels different today. I usually prefer a tender touch to any form of discipline, but this morning it feels like he is rubbing my fur the wrong way. It makes me feel sick.

A small growl appears in my throat—completely uncontrolled and unbidden. I’m surprised at the sound, and Virus certainly does not appreciate it.

“What’s this? Disobedience?”

Smack! Another sharp spank to my skin, and it makes me feel like leaping off the bed. I can’t explain why I feel so different today. I lower my ears and my head, grasping the sheets with my hands. 

“You would dare growl at me?”

Smack! A quiet yelp escapes my mouth again, even when I try to bite it back. Then, Virus speaks to me again, and he must be leaning over me because his mouth is right next to my ear.

“I am trying to help you _succeed_. You’d better be careful not to raise my ire today. I will take the hairbrush to you again if you disobey me. I don’t care _what_ the prince has asked.”

Tears blur my vision when I hear the cruel words.

“Oh? This displeases you?” Virus must have noticed my tears, and shame courses through my body. “If you think you are in for it now, just wait what sort of clientele you’ll attract tomorrow. I’m sure our fencing instructor will fall for this ass—especially if he sees it reddened and sore.”

I shiver with revulsion and a strange pleading mewling sound echoes in my ears. I don’t even notice that it’s me. Today—I just can’t _stand_ him touching me! The spanking just feels so wrong! It’s the _wrong_ touch. It shouldn’t be _him_. 

“Yes, I can feel you’re not compatible with me. That’s your body, fearing my touch. But I don’t really care about compatibility. I will fuck you either way—as soon as you’re available.”

A wave of nausea rises in my throat. I swallow it right back down, for fear of insulting him and getting into an even worse punishment. I remember what he did to me the last time I vomited in his presence: what followed was my first public strapping. Really, I’ve only been punished publicly that time and once again with Akira. It doesn’t help my nausea any to remember either occasion.

“Please,” I whisper. “I will do whatever you want.” 

Seriously, I _don’t_ want him touching me. And right then—he licks my ear, and it feels so utterly disgusting! I cannot imagine sharing a bed with him tonight!

“Oh, you will. Get your clothes on, kitten.”

I obey, standing up from the bed and dressing in my uniform. It’s starting to feel strange to wear clothes. The past few days, I’ve only worn my uniform to my dancing lessons and when I received Rai as a visitor. Otherwise, I’m not permitted clothing and have to stay in Virus’ chamber.

After serving Virus a light breakfast—and eating very little myself—I have dance lessons. Virus informs me that this is my last chance, so I’d better do well. Koujaku himself is here to teach me, and he is praising my progress. I let his words flow in and out of my ears, nodding silently, doing exactly as he says.

Once, I miss a turn—and I am so ashamed and frightened that my body reflexively drops to its knees before I realize what I’ve done. I have my head lowered at the ground, staring at Koujaku’s black shoes, and tears in my eyes.

When did I get to be so skittish? And so fearful of punishment?  
  
Worse, what if _this_ is my life from now on—even if Rai _does_ get me out of here tomorrow. What if he punishes me, too? The tears I’ve done well holding back actually do slip down my cheeks when I hear Koujaku sighs deeply. I have disappointed him. 

“I-i a-apologize,” I say from my place at the floor.

“Listen, kitten,” Koujaku says quietly, scratching the base of my ears. It feels a little uncomfortable but not nearly as wrong as when Virus touched me. “It’s natural to miss a step now and then. Tomorrow, just keep moving and you will be just fine. You are a graceful dancer. I’m sure you will please my brother.”

I look up as Koujaku pulls me up to stand. He's a prince, too. Maybe I should ask about Rai. He should know his brother’s temperament, shouldn’t he?  
  
“I’m very much looking forward to hearing you sing,” he says quietly, still examining my face and wiping the tears from my eyes. “I know my brother is, too.”

Maybe now would be a good time to get information. I follow his movement when we start dancing again, steel myself and meet his gaze.

“About your brother…”  
  
“You mean Rai?”

“Yes. What kind of person is he?” I ask, keeping my voice very quiet.

Koujaku responds with a soft chuckle.

“Well, that’s a hard question to answer, actually. He’s… certainly unique.”

Looking away, I dare to elaborate my question.

“He came to see me yesterday.”

Koujaku raises his eyebrows.

“Did he?”

“He did. And he was… kind to me. But…” I let my voice trail off, hoping Koujaku will understand what I am asking.

“But what?” 

I sigh softly.

“But I have heard he is ruthless and cruel. He doesn’t act like that around me. He is very… tender. It’s confusing. I mean, I _know_ he is a bounty hunter. He kills and captures prey for a living. Is he… trying to trick me?”

Again, a deep sigh from my dance instructor.

“Kitten, use your head for a moment. Why would he deceive you? Why would he have the need to do that?”

“H-he s-said… he would take me away from here,” I whisper very softly, even though we are alone in the dance studio. I would be in so much trouble if I was overheard.

“Do you mean for a few days? The school does, um, loan out its students from time to time.”

Jerking up my chin, I shake my head.

“I think he meant he’d get me out of here.”

Koujaku doesn’t speak for a few minutes.

“I tried that—with Aoba—right after his debut. But I couldn’t keep him more than a week before I was forbidden to see him again. You are not royalty, either.”

My ears droop and my heart sinks. 

“No,” I agree sadly. “I am not _anything_.” Then I stop dancing. “Wait. That’s not right. I _d_ o have something. I have my _voice_. I am a _Sanga_. Couldn’t he make use of me?”

“Make _use_ of you?” Koujaku echoes. “Is that really what you want for yourself?”

“What I _want_ …?” I hadn’t even considered. What on earth has happened to me that I haven’t even thought about what I want?

“Yes, kitten. What do you want?”

“I…” I pause for a moment, thinking. “Well, I don’t know. But I know I want to get away from this place. I hate it here. Virus and Trip are cruel—and I am afraid of what they have planned for me after tomorrow—”

I stop my words mid-sentence. Koujaku has stopped dancing and is looking down at me sharply.

“Cruel?” He repeats.

“Um—they are unfair,” I try to explain, lowering my gaze. “I often am not even given a chance to do as I’m asked—or when I do, it isn’t right or fast enough, and then I am punished.”  
  
“I see.” 

“I think—um—even if I wasn’t a good Sanga at first, I could learn. I want to learn. I want to please him.”

“My brother?”

“Yes. I think even if I displeased him, he would discipline me fairly.” After a short pause, I ask, “Am I wrong to believe such a thing?”

Koujaku sighs again, and this doesn’t add to my confidence.

“If I don’t go with him, I will be open game for every student and every teacher at this place!” I add rather desperately. “I don’t _want_ to be used that way! I don’t think that is my true purpose!”

“You know, kitten…” Koujaku hesitates before continuing. “Rai is not as kindhearted as you seem to think he is.”

“He _has_ to be better than Virus and Trip!” I hiss quietly. “With him—I at least have a chance! Here… I am struggling to survive!”

“Listen, I should let you know his reputation is not undeserved. It _isn’t_ that he isn’t kind—but he did not grow up knowing love. His mother died when he was born, and he was raised as a stepchild, treated unkindly and unfairly by my father. He escaped the castle when he was a little older than you and went his own way. He may not understand what love and kindness are. And I have seen him work. He enjoys his job.”

I swallow thickly.

“I know that. I think I could help him. With my voice, I mean—with his work.”

“Have you sung for a Touga before?”

“I have. I sang for him.”

“I mean, have you ever paired with one in battle?”

“N-no. B-but I am willing to learn. I… I would sacrifice my strength and life for his.”

Koujaku grabs my chin and lifts my gaze up to meet his. He’s looking so sharply at me.

“You don’t even _know_ him, Konoe. How can you say such a thing?”

My ears flatten again, fearfully.

“I-i d-don’t m-mean to presume,” I falter slightly, intimidated by that glare. "I-i don't expect a-anything in return—"

“How does he know you aren’t using him just to get out of here? I know he wouldn’t take kindly to that. I hate to think what he would do to you if you deceived him in that manner.”

“Th-that’s n-not wh-what I mean,” I say. “I think I, um, love him.” I feel my ears heating up, and Koujaku’s gaze softens slightly, resting on my blushing ears.

“Have you spoken to my brother about your feelings?”

“N-not p-precisely.”

“You haven’t told him you love him?”

“I haven’t. I wouldn’t want to put that kind of pressure on him,” I explain, lamely. “I know I don’t have a title, or a name, or money, or property.”

“Kitten, I don’t know that matters—to him, anyway. I just—well, I just worry he’s, er, inexperienced. You should be direct.”

“Does he have a temper?” 

“He isn’t easily riled, but he doesn’t have much patience for stupidity,” Koujaku admits.

Am I stupid? I don’t think so. Is that what Koujaku is implying?

“Also, he doesn’t appreciate being told what to do. Nor does he appreciate having things dangled in front of him that he can’t have.”  
  
I flatten my ears a little.

“I-i’m n-not doing that! He, um, can have me.” I _really_ want to ask if Koujaku thinks I’m stupid now, but all I can do is glance up at his face in confusion and anxiety. I don't dare ask anything else.

The rest of the dance lesson goes well, and Koujaku takes the time to praise my progress to Virus—emphasizing that I need rest in order to do well tomorrow. He suggests giving me the rest of the day off.

“I’d love to do that, but Konoe is scheduled for his treatment today,” Virus says.

Treatment? What treatment?! When I glance at Virus to see what he’s talking about, he just ignores me. As soon as Koujaku leaves, Virus grabs my arm.

“Head up to the main bathing area upstairs. You will be prepared for tomorrow.”

“Prepared how, sir?” I ask.

Raising his eyebrows, Virus smacks my ass again. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t—and I just asked a question—and I was even polite about it! It brings tears to my eyes, mostly because of how much it hurts my feelings.

“No questions. Just obey.”

Nervously, I head upstairs—and I haven’t been here in a while. I wonder if my bouquet is still alive—after almost two weeks, there’s no way it could be. I am tempted to check, but I don’t want to delay whatever is coming. I open the double-doors to the bathing chamber. The moment I step inside, however, a dark menacing aura falls over me. What is this feeling? I know I’ve felt it before—but a hand grabs my arm suddenly and pulls me close.

“ _There_ you are, kitten. I wanted to take my time with you and see to you personally,” a deep voice growls in my ear—and looking down, I see fur-covered spats. My body is being pressed against a bare chest—and I know from the revulsion I feel it is that devil, Verg. It feels so very wrong for him to touch me today—much worse than usual, and I feel ill.

“I-i will obey, sir,” I say. “You can release me.” 

“When I’m good and ready.” He lowers his nose to the base of my ears and smells me and moves down my neck, smelling me a little longer there. “Mmm. Honey and orange blossom. Such a sweet scent. You smell quite ripe. Are you uncomfortable?”  
  
I try to wiggle out of his arms when I answer honestly.

“Yes, sir. Please—it doesn’t feel right for you to touch me. Sir.”

“That isn’t what I meant. I meant—physically speaking—are you hot? Feverish? Achy?” 

“Um, yes, sir.” I’m a little surprised Verg can tell what I’m feeling. 

“Good. This will make tomorrow go much more smoothly. But today, I want to prepare you for your costume tomorrow. To start, strip. We’re going to wash and scrub your skin.”

“I—I, um, don’t need help with this, sir,” I say, not daring to raise my gaze.

“Well, you’re already disobeying me. So I beg to differ.” Verg’s hand slides down to the base of my tail—and it feels all wrong! But then, I feel a sudden electric shock rush through my body. It’s so strong it makes my ears twitch. A small pained meow escapes my mouth, despite my best efforts to bite it back. 

“Please,” I whisper.

“Things will only get more uncomfortable for you if you disobey. Now strip.”

Discouraged, I obey. Stepping away from Verg I keep my face pointed at the floor, and I strip out of my uniform, standing naked in front of him. I cannot look up—that electric shock sent waves of desire through my body, and Rai’s face is glued in my mind—specifically, I remember how he touched me yesterday. I cannot get his image out of my head.

“Good boy. Now, into the shower with you.”

He pushes me under the warm water—and I see a stool in the shower stall. As soon as I rinse off my body, he pushes me into it and grabs my foot.

He has to be getting his clothes wet—but I’ve noticed he’s stripped off the furry spats, his gloves, and his jacket—leaving him in something that looks like leather underwear. He has a small basket beside him and begins scrubbing my feet with a mixture of scented oil, soap, and either salt or sugar—I can’t tell which. 

Using his hands, he scrubs me from head to toe—starting with my feet. He is incredibly thorough, and this is very embarrassing. When he massages each toe, it should feel good—this should be relaxing—but it isn’t at all. It’s uncomfortable and annoying. I find it upsetting—and when I try to pull my body away from his hands, he shocks me again.

During the entire process, I am shocked three time—and now, I find desire pooling in my waist, which is even more shameful.

“Obey and submit, kitten. The gods only know who you will have to please tomorrow. If you’re lucky, whoever it is will appreciate your reticence. If you aren’t, he will spank your cute little ass until you submit.”

I shudder—again worrying that Rai may not win my auction. Or worse—he might win and be something entirely different than what I think he is. I could end up in far worse condition than I’ve been in so far. I’m afraid.

When Verg is finished scrubbing my skin and rinsing me, he pulls me over to the spa. 

“Get in and sit on the side. Let me take care of your hair.” 

It feels nice to have him shampoo my hair, I’m ashamed to admit. He combs the conditioner through my hair and ears and then has me climb up to the top step. My groin is barely underwater, so he can obviously see I’m aroused. He applies shampoo and conditioner to my tail and the soft tuft of fur below my belly, letting it sit while he tends to my hands.

He uses a brush under my nails and claws. He brings a file up to my blunted claws—still trimmed short but not painfully so—and he shapes all the rough edges. Embarrassingly, he watches my face while he does this.

“I’d hate for you to damage any of your clients. Not everyone will enjoy scratching and biting, though you never know.”

That thought sticks in my head. Might there be cats who _enjoy_ being bitten and scratched? It never occurred to me. I don’t say anything, however. I just submit and keep my eyes low. I can’t _stand_ how he’s looking at me. It gives me the creeps—he makes me feel like prey. He applies some sort of oil to my cuticles and pushes them back, then he buffs my nails till they shine. He repeats the process on my toenails as well, using some sort of stone to smooth any callouses.

“Now, let’s groom your fur a little. Lucky for you, you have very fine fur, so you don’t require waxing.” 

I have very little body hair—just below my belly button and in my pubic region, and I’m nervous when I see Verg get out a small comb and scissors. He trims my hair, making me stand up and spread my legs. I’m incredibly ashamed to be so exposed. He shocks me again—for no reason I can tell since I _am_ being obedient—and I blush even harder when my dick gets hard. He certainly feels free to touch me however he likes. Strangely, the more I feel more turned on, the more his touch feels good. It's not just embarrassing anymore. I also feel _incredibly_ guilty, which probably shows on my drooping ears.

“There we go. Perfect. Your clients will adore seeing you so beautiful at your debut. I should fix your hair as well.”

He places both hands on my scalp for a moment, and suddenly I feel another shock. My ears bristle in surprise. Now when I receive those shocks, I don’t even fight them anymore. They are still only slightly painful and instead add to my arousal—even the one on my head. Although—my scalp starts to tingle weirdly, even after the shock has passed.

“There we go. Much better.” 

I bring my hand up to my hair for a moment, and I realize that my hair has grown in length. It’s past my shoulders—almost to my mid back. Not as long as the beautiful silver cat, of course—but longer than shoulder-length. It's close in length to Aoba's. Huh. Part of me wonders if Rai will like it like this.

Then, he rinses my hair and fur carefully—almost tenderly—and has me step out of the pool. 

“Now, let’s finish up this lovely skin.” 

He has me lie down on a padded bench, face down, to start, and he applies some sort of lotion to my body. It tingles a little when he rubs it into my shoulders and neck—and that feels really good and relaxing. I like it—but even though the relaxation is nice, there seems to be something slightly off-putting by Verg’s hands. I can’t explain it—except that vague feeling that the _wrong_ person is touching me. I’ve been shocked so many times, though, that it starts to feel pretty nice. Even when I feel his fingers slipping between my cheeks—it feels invasive but also very nice. I only protest softly at the feeling.

“Good boy. This is how you should behave tomorrow, too. Now turn over and face front,” he growls softly. 

I obey—even though I’m naked—and the same lotion is applied thoroughly to the front of my body, too. Even my private parts are covered with this stuff—and Verg certainly takes his time there, moving slowly and deliberately. To my mortification, my dick starts to drip after he touches it so many times. 

“See—even though you aren’t compatible with me, you want it, don’t you?” 

I feel my ears blushing and I close my eyes when my chin is nudged. 

“Look at me.” 

Reluctantly, I open my eyes and manage to meet his gaze. His eyes really creep me out, and his fangs are peeking over his lips. My chin is tipped down, so I end up looking up at him through my lashes.

“ _That’s_ what we want to see. Keep your eyes open. I’m only sorry I can’t finish you up today. Virus forbade it. He wants you even more desperate tomorrow.”

When my front is finished, my dick is throbbing. But Verg isn’t finished with me yet. He takes a brush—and I flinch visibly when I see it, fearing it instinctively, much to his delight—and runs it through my new long hair and fur. It feels _really_ nice on my tail—almost as nice as when someone else grooms it for me. 

“I heard a rumor about you, kitten,” Verg murmurs as he runs the brush through my fur. “I heard you can come untouched—well, at least when someone else plays with your tail. Can you do it on your own, too? Or does it have to be another cat?”

I don’t reply—I’m too ashamed. But it’s stupid of me not to reply since I’m lying on my stomach and Verg has that brush in his hand. He spanks my ass with it suddenly, and I’m horrified by the vulgar sound that escapes my lips.

“Ah! Um,” I start moving my mouth immediately. “I-i’ve never tried doing it myself, sir.” 

“Do you mean _ever_? Or using your tail?” 

Why is he asking me this? This has nothing to do with my appearance. Apparently, my hesitation to answer is too long and I’m spanked again. This time, it hurts bad enough to make tears burst from my eyes.

“Please, sir! I’m sorry—and I mean, I haven't tried with my tail.”

“It’s a _skill_ ,” Verg says. “You should perhaps learn to make yourself come by grooming your own tail. It’s _certainly_ something I would enjoy watching.”

“Y-yes, sir,” I stammer—embarrassed. I’m sure he can see how red my ears are—and even as I think that, I feel him stroking them softly. 

“Pink ears. Adorable.” 

The fingers of the hand not holding the hairbrush currently brushing my tail creep just beneath the base of my tail. I shiver—I am desperately hoping it is fear I am feeling, and I'm horrified to think it might be something else. 

“You know—just because _I’m_ not supposed to finish you off doesn’t mean _you_ can’t,” Verg suggests. “Why don’t you try with your tail?”

“Now?” I ask, incredulous. I really don’t want to 

“Now.”

“Um—I don't think I'm allowed, sir. I’m fine…” I look away for a moment.  

“You _aren’t_. Or if you are now, you won’t be.” He reaches down toward my tail and shocks me again, making another embarrassing noise spill out. “I’m sure I can leave you just as desperate when you’re finished. So go ahead.”

“Please,” I start—but he spanks me again with the brush.

“Just do as you’re told. Kneel up on the bench so I can watch.”

He’s being serious! I move my body up onto all fours and then push back so I’m sitting on my knees.

“B-but wh-what if someone c-comes in, sir?” I keep my voice quiet and won’t meet his gaze. This is too public of a place.

My chin is grabbed again, and Verg cranes my neck up to meet his eyes: one gray, one green. A chill shivers down my spine.

“I don’t hate this little innocent act, but I want to watch. It would serve you to obey. If you can’t do this here, what the hell are you going to do tomorrow?”

“Something like this won’t be expected—”

“Like hell! What do you think Aoba is going to be doing to you up on that stage? Now, do as I’ve asked.”

I don’t think I can do this while he’s watching me so closely.

“Would you like me to fetch an audience for you, kitten? I can call out and I’m sure we could get more people in here.”  
  
“No! Please don’t, sir,” I murmur. I take my tail in my hand and shut my eyes for a second.

“Do you need assistance?” 

“Uh—ah!” I cry out again when Verg sends another shock through my body.

“I know you enjoy the feeling. So _go_ with it.” 

I start grooming my tail—it tastes a little salty from my tears. I do this because… what if Rai wants me to do something like this for him? Wouldn’t I submit to it willingly? Why does it feel so different when Rai is actually with me? 

Keeping his face at the forefront of my mind, I start licking my tail—the tip—in soft strokes. I don’t groom it—I’m _licking_ it—and trying to imagine someone else (my bounty hunting prince, for example) licking me. It does feel quite good—and within a few minutes, I’m pretty close. But then Verg’s low voice rumbles and I remember where I am.

“That’s very pretty. You look so wonderfully desperate. Keep going—”

He’s interrupted when the doors to the bathing chamber swing open, and I quickly lower myself onto the table, sitting down on my ass—hoping that I won’t get in trouble. It’s Virus.

“What the _hell_ is going on here?! I gave you specific instructions, Verg!”

“Ah, but he looks so _delicious_. I wanted to see if he could come from grooming his own tail—and look how pretty he looks!”

Virus takes two steps over to me and grabs my hair. He looks surprised at first when he yanks my hair. He's surprised enough to loosen his grip a little.

“What’s this? Long hair? It’s pretty on him.” 

“I thought it might, too,” Verg says.

I’m dragged off the table and Virus bends me over it.

“I told you your body is no longer your own,” he mutters in my ear.

I’m really upset—because I didn’t _want_ to do any of this!

“Please, sir! Verg asked me to do this, and I thought I’d get in trouble if I disobeyed him!”

“But you should know better,” Virus says, smacking my ass several times with his hand—hard. Tears spill down my cheeks—and I’m _pissed_! I really can’t do anything right! There was no room in this scenario for me to do the “right” thing! I can’t believe it. So I simply cry and submit my body, despite my anger. I don’t know what else to do. 

Except that now, my mind is made up. I _am_ going with Rai. Any life with him has got to be better than what is planned for me here. If I am being handled like this now, what will it be like once all of my body is available?!

I hate Virus. I hate Verg. I hate feeling like I don’t have any choice or any freedom. I hate being treated like an object. But that’s what’s in store for me today. I tell myself it's only one more day and I can deal with it. So, after putting on the robe he offers me, I follow Virus back to his room and lie down, daydreaming about tomorrow.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, it's Saturday morning--the day of the much-anticipated social. This chapter describes the prep work for the three kittens scheduled to be auctioned off.
> 
> Triggers: Lots of lectures, intrusive touching, and some angst.

Finally—it’s the day of the social. Virus didn’t sleep in the same bed with me last night, which was sort of nice. I went to sleep while he was doing paperwork, and when I wake up, he’s not in the room.

When I wake up, I feel different—my skin is smooth and fresh, and my hair feels weird. It’s long—as long as Aoba’s, in fact. I stretch out long in the bed—feeling my body heat raging inside me. It’s hot and uncomfortable—almost stifling. I can’t believe how hot I am even after I uncover myself from the sheets. My body is coated in a fine layer of sweat. 

And I’m aroused. I mean—that’s a normal reaction for me lately when I wake in the mornings, but this is different. This feels… specific. Like… _I want the silver cat_. I can’t stop thinking about how it felt when he touched me, and I want him to do it again.

Remembering the bag of gold I saw in Virus’ office yesterday, I realize that I will most likely be spending today with him. And tonight. And perhaps he will take me home with him. I want to go home with him if only to get out of this place.

This morning, that sounds pretty tempting. Even after everything I’ve heard about the bounty hunter, I am finding a part of me willing to put up with almost anything to be with him (and get away from here). He may be violent and aggressive—but that will certainly only come out if I fail to please him, won’t it?

 _Wait a minute_. I don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s time for me to get this fantasy I have of the beautiful prince and compare it to what is _actually_ going on around me. I am pretty sure I will be expected to have sex with him tonight, and I’ve never done that before. I’m incredibly nervous—remembering how Virus and Trip have treated me in the past. They were certainly displeased with my performance up in the tower. In fact, I find it difficult to near impossible not to disappoint them in everything on a daily basis. If I fail to please Rai, will he change his mind about taking me with him? Will he punish me? For a second, I imagine what the silver cat would look like if he were disappointed—he might insist I make it up to him. A small shiver crosses my skin at the thought—and that… _frightens_ me. Am I actually hoping he _will_ punish me? Ugh! What the hell is wrong with me?!

I shake my head firmly to try to settle my thoughts, but the heat in my body is making it impossible. Would Rai spank me? Would he use a hairbrush? Or gods, what if he used that riding crop I’ve seen him carry with him? Why the hell does that idea sound so attractive to me right now?! When did I get so desperate?

And is it desperation? For what? For sexual gratification? For touch in general? I don’t think so, though my body tells me it is about sex. Most definitely about the sex. I specifically remember out in the gardens—Rai sitting in the grass by the stream, me straddling his lap, pushing myself against him—and I could feel his excitement. But wasn’t that so special _because_ he was tender with me? He treated me like I was something precious. 

While I am struggling with my thoughts, the door to the bedroom opens. I’m lying on top of my sheets, naked and sweating, and I look up expecting to see Virus. It _isn’t_ Virus. Nor is it Trip. To my dismay and horror, it’s _Verg_ standing in the doorway. He has a nasty leer on his face, and he is ogling my naked body from the tips of my ears to my toes. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach, bordering on nausea.

“You look happy to see me, kitten,” he purrs softly, approaching the bed. I quickly grab the sheet and throw it over my lower half, trying to hide from him and show some modicum of decency. “Don’t cover up on my behalf. Virus said he was afraid to sleep in his own room last night—I can see why.”  
  
My ears flatten and my tail curls up in question. What does he mean?

“You smell delicious. The stars have aligned perfectly for your debut, it seems. Come. Let’s get you ready for the day.” 

I do not want to obey this devil. He frightens me, and the way he is watching me now is terrifying.

“Where is Virus?” I ask, scooting away from him as much as possible.

“Now, now. I’m just here to prepare you for this afternoon. We want you at your very best. I’m here to prepare all of you, including Aoba, and Akira. You don’t plan on disobeying me so soon, do you? If you do… well. I’m afraid your day will become even more… desperate.”

The threat frightens me, especially the glee I hear in Verg's tone—but not enough to make me get up out of the bed.

“Come. Get up. You can even wear a robe if you like.”

I shake my head slowly—and I know I am defying him. But I am really afraid of Verg. He terrifies me—and this morning, there’s something about him that feels incredibly wrong. I mean, more wrong than it usually feels. 

“Kitten. Don’t start with me so early. I’m not a morning person and I will show you no mercy.”

I still don’t take his proffered hand. I don’t want to get up and expose myself to him. But I can’t escape, and he reaches out toward my ankle, which is still covered in the sheets and yanks me roughly across the bed. I give a little yelp, considering seriously crying out for Virus. I won’t be beaten the day of the social, will I? Verg wouldn’t—

And that’s when I hear it—the electrical crackle like strong static on a hot dry summer’s day. And just as soon as I hear the sound, my body jerks, my fur bristles, and a painful sensation floods me, starting from my left leg and surging up through my entire body. I actually let out a scream—and I know Virus should be able to hear me even from his office. But then, waves of desire pool in my hips, lapping indulgently, making me even harder than I already was.

I can’t defy Verg further. It would be stupid, so I climb out of bed as soon as I gather my wits and drop down to the floor on my knees, staring at his boots.

“I’m s-sorry, sir,” I mumble quietly, flicking my tail in front of my lap.

“Much better. You feel a little different today, don’t you? Welcome to the world of adults.”

He drapes a red and orange paisley silk robe over my shoulders and pulls me up to stand. The robe is hanging open, and I really want to cover myself, so I try pulling it close to my body.

Immediately, I feel another shock—this one applied to my ear. It makes both of them bristle and twitch uncontrollably—and then an even heavier sensation flows to my hips. But I don’t resist. I know I will be punished again if I do. I drop my hands to my sides and glance up at the tall white-haired devil. He’s grinning down at me, I can see, through vision blurred with tears.

“Already? Precious little tears from the magic kitten? You certainly are ideal. I will be paying you a visit myself—tomorrow, if I can, my dear.”

Dropping my gaze quickly, I suppress both my tears and my shudder, almost successfully—the tip of my tail quivers a little in horror. I really can’t imagine anything worse than having to spend the night with Verg. I simply stand still, waiting for his instructions. They don’t come for a few awkward moments.

Eventually, Verg touches my chin gently and then pulls the silk closed and ties it at my waist.

“We have much to do. Come.”

I follow him out of the door, down the hall and up the stairs to the main bathroom. Aoba and Akira are already waiting in the large hot pool—and while I expected to be alone (or only with them and Verg), the bathing area is a flurry of anticipation and preparation. Lots of other students are there, dressing, showering, bathing, and preening in front of the mirrors. Many eyes look up when I am led inside, and I feel their eyes crawling over me. I also notice ears, tails, and noses twitching.

I didn’t know that the social would involve the other students. This is not ideal, though I’m not sure what I can do about it. But one thing is for sure: If I didn’t have a target on my back before today, I certainly will now.

“Doesn’t he just smell ripe?” It’s the prefect—Tomoyuki, the cat with long auburn hair. He’s peeking around the shower to check me out. “And look at that robe, kitten! Today must be your special day! Like your birthday, you know? Only sexier!” 

A shudder crawls down my spine. I was hoping I could spend the day (or at least the morning) with a little privacy but it's apparent that isn’t going to happen.

“Don’t let him bother you,” Verg growls in my ear. He has me by the arm and is pushing me toward a shower stall at the end of the hall. “He’s just eager for your debut, and that’s a good thing.”

I certainly don’t believe _anything_ about this situation is good. It’s humiliating to have Verg strip off my robe in front of everyone and push me under the hot water when I could do it myself and cause much less attention. I manage to soap myself up well enough. When I shampoo my hair, its new length feels foreign and weird in my fingers. Verg combs some conditioner through it and pulls me out from under the shower and drags me over to the pool. I can’t even fluff up my fur to cover myself, but I try—giving myself a porcupine tail. 

“Good morning,” I murmur quietly to Akira and Aoba. Aoba nods and returns my greeting, while Akira simply stares at me.

“Are you ready for this evening?” Aoba asks, keeping his voice low. “It’s not as bad as all that. You have a rich person interested in you, so you don’t have to worry. Though… Verg seems to like you, too, huh?”

“I guess,” I reply. I don’t want to be rude, but at the same time I don’t want to discuss this now.

“The hard part, really, is the _performance_. But as long as you do what is expected of you, sing when you are told and make sure you do as Akira says, I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Virus and Trip won’t punish you for no reason.”

For no reason? I certainly feel like I _have_ been punished for no reason other than Virus’ or Trip’s pleasure since I’ve been here. I look around—and Verg has disappeared for a moment. I wonder where he went. I am feeling even warmer submersed in the hot water to my shoulders.

“Verg is already out to get me,” I whisper. “He has shocked me several times—and it’s very uncomfortable.”

“That’s just Verg. He thinks debutantes look better if they look both innocent and aroused. And he will keep doing that today. Just stay out of his way as much as possible,” Aoba explains. “At least he can’t actually _do_ anything to you.”

Glancing at Akira, I wonder if he’s angry at me. He is scowling, which of course Verg notices as soon as he enters the room again.

“Akira, what have I told you about furrowing your brows like that?! Your job is to be _pretty_ today. So wipe that look off your face.”

In response, Akira glares at him—and is immediately grabbed by the neck. I hear and see the shock run through him, and perhaps because I’m in the same water, I feel some of the effects of it myself. Waves of arousal make their way through my body, though I didn’t suffer from pain. A small gasp escapes my mouth—it sounds quite lewd, too—and my ears heat up in shame.

“Aw, could _you_ feel that? Are you _that_ sensitive, kitten? Today really must be the peak of your heat. I can’t wait to see your performance!” 

Flattening my ears, I look away, but I don’t respond. I’m upset and I don’t want to say anything.

Verg pulls Akira out of the water and leads him over to that padded bench. Verg covers him in lotion—and I try not to watch. Somehow, the idea of having someone—even Verg—spread lotion all over my skin is awfully attractive at this moment. The feelings are embarrassing and unfamiliar, but I realize I have been accustomed to this sort of treatment. And my body seems to crave tenderness of any kind.

But then, I see Verg do something weird to Akira. He is lying on his stomach, and I hear Verg say, “Spread your legs.”

Akira doesn’t seem happy about this, but he obeys. Appalled, I watch as Verg sticks his finger between Akira’s cheeks, and I see Akira’s face change slightly. Then, Verg actually inserts something inside of him—a small thing, perhaps as long as a quail’s egg but much slimmer.

“Good boy. Now get dressed,” he orders Akira, nodding to a hanging suit. Akira obeys without objection. It looks like Akira will be wearing his fancy suit today. His cravat is a pretty blue silk print which accents his eyes.

Before Aoba is pulled out of the pool, I whisper, “Do we all get to wear our fancy clothing today?”

Aoba nods.

“Yeah. At least till tonight. Then we will be given some sort of costume for the performance.”

I’m slightly relieved I won’t be walking around nude all day. Aoba gets out of the pool before he is asked and lies down on the bench for his treatment. I wonder if Verg will put that thing inside him, too—and I needn’t have wondered. Aoba seems to expect it, and I am horrified.

When it’s my turn to get out, suddenly I realize that as much as my body is craving tenderness, I do not really want Verg to do that to me. I can’t quite relax when I lie down, even as Verg urges me to do so. Turning to my stomach, I grip the bench till my knuckles turn white.

“You’re really interesting,” Verg says. “Or is it just that you like me so much you don’t know what to do?”

I have no idea how to respond to that, so I say nothing. That’s the wrong choice, however, since Verg slaps me hard—right where my thighs and butt meet. I’m covered in lotion, so it makes a loud wet sound. It’s embarrassing more than painful, however. I lower my face to the bench to try to hide.

“Your ears are pink, kitten.”

When I still don’t reply, I get another slap. It’s humiliating since the other students are still in the room, watching everything. They can see everything Verg is doing to me.

“Y-yes, sir,” I stammer softly.

“Now, I need you to relax a little. I don’t want to hurt you, after all.”

I can’t seem to relax my body, as much as I try, and I start to get very anxious.

“Please, sir,” I beg softly. “I c-can’t—” 

But Verg grabs the base of my tail before I can say anymore and sends another shock through my body. I can’t help my reaction—my body lifts up off the bench almost completely. And this time, when the waves of pleasure flood my body, I definitely feel my dick responding and a small moan escapes my mouth. I’m ashamed—but the shock has the effect of making me more submissive.

A finger is pressed underneath my tail, and I shudder again.

“Spread your legs a little more. It will be more comfortable.”

I comply, but it isn’t more comfortable—not at all—when he pushes his finger inside me, stretching the ring of muscle at my entrance. Additionally, I feel something spill inside me—as though released from the tip of his finger itself. It feels liquid and sticky and utterly gross… and yet, despite those sensations, it’s not entirely unpleasant.

I mistakenly turn my head to the side, I realize I still have an audience. There are a group of students watching Verg do this to me! I’m so ashamed and humiliated—and shocked, too—so I turn my head to the left instead. There are students over there, as well. I squeeze my eyes shut and feel my ears heat up even more. 

“See? It’s not so bad, is it?” Verg whispers, the rest of his hand cupping me right below my tail. He pulls out his finger and then pushes something else inside—that slim little thing he put inside Aoba and Akira. What _is_ that? Even after he removes his finger, I can still feel that thing inside me.

“Wh-what—?”

“Oh. This is a little thing I use to make you kittens a little more compliant. If you disobey me—or if you don’t do as I ask fast enough, I can just do this…”

He snaps his fingers and that thing inside me starts to vibrate and hum. It’s almost like a purr, except in a place where I haven’t really had anything inside me before. It’s not only excessively distracting, but it also arouses me nearly to being overwhelmed. My body starts to writhe on the bench, but I can’t seem to get it out of me!

“Ah! Please—ah—stop!” I beg.

But Verg simply caresses my ass, and my response isn’t to pull away, much to my dismay. My hips lift up from the bench and press back into his hand.

“See? It makes you much more malleable. And my gods, it makes your scent stronger, too.”

“Please!” I beg again, as my body trembles and shivers. 

Verg snaps his fingers again, and my body collapses back onto the bench. I am incredibly hard now—my dick dripping underneath me and soaking the bench—and I am exhausted. The demon leans over my back and whispers in my ear. I feel his lips touch the fur on the outside, making my ear twitch away from him.

“Isn’t that nice? You should be glad it’s the devil of _pleasure_ here to serve you today.”

I don’t know what is worse—the thing inside me or the shocks. But when I don’t dress quickly enough or tie my gold cravat appropriately, he alternates between shocking me and snapping his fingers. Aoba is looking at me like, “You stupid cat! Don’t you know to just please him?” As though I could actually do _anything_ to prevent Verg’s treatment of me. And Akira… well, he just looks at me longingly.

Eventually, however, we are all three dressed—and I feel quite fancy. I’m pretty sure Rai will approve this outfit. It looks like a suit he’d wear, only in pin-striped black with a matching vest and soft ivory shirt underneath. My pants are really tight—and they feel precariously snug, as though people watching me walk might be able to see my ass jiggle. My hair is combed out down my back and shoulders, and Verg keeps fussing with it. He spends more time on my outfit than Akira’s or Aoba’s—but of course, they have done this before.

Finally, he finishes, and we are brought back downstairs to the parlor. Verg tells us to wait here patiently and keep out of trouble.

“You won’t be eating anything today, but you can drink as much as you like.” Verg is pouring something sparkling into four crystal flutes. He hands each of us a glass. He lifts up his glass and clinks it against each of ours. “Here’s to your successful debut, kitten, and a successful evening for you two.”

He takes a sip—and so do Aoba and Akira. The stuff is carbonated and tickles my nose when I drink it, but it tastes nice. I wonder if it’s grape juice. 

Verg pours us a second glass and leaves the room. I drink mine right away, and I notice that in addition to how hot and uncomfortable I feel, I’m starting to feel very relaxed. It’s an odd combination.

“Don’t, Akira,” Aoba’s voice warns. I look up just in time to see Akira taking a seat next to me on the couch.

“I don’t want to hurt you tonight,” he says quietly. “So I will go easy on you. You just need to do as I ask. Okay?”

“You mean—during the performance?” I ask.

“Yes. And you should slow down on the champagne. You don’t want to get sick so soon. Virus will make an example of you if you can’t obey him.”

“Champagne?”

“It’s alcoholic,” Aoba chimes in. “Seriously, Akira. You need to get away from him.”

Akira really smells good today—clean and fresh, a little like powder. His hair looks soft and shiny, too, and his eyes are sparkling such a clear blue. Why does he smell so nice? I reach out my hand and touch his ears. They are soft and plush—and my mind is flooded with the memory of him in that patch of catnip, touching me, undressing me, groping me. I can’t suppress my shiver.

“Seriously, stop!” Aoba says. He pulls me up off the couch and pushes me into another chair. “How stupid can you be? You two are probably only compatible because of the time you’ve spent together. But Virus will _kill_ you both if something happens between you.”

“I don’t care,” Akira says, standing up. “You shouldn’t go to the bounty hunter. He will use you—he will abuse you when you don’t perform. And he will take you with him and make you work for a living. You need… someone who can take care of you.” His voice is soft and it echoes strangely in my ears.

“If you don’t stop this now, I will get Virus!” Aoba says. “Please!” 

I look up at the blue-haired cat. Why would he tell on us?

“Don’t be stupid. Come on. Just sit down and ignore your symptoms.”

Akira gives me a longing glance before moving away from my chair and sitting on the couch. 

“This is wrong,” he mutters. “You’re a Sanga! They can’t treat you like this! It just… feels all wrong.”

“You can’t do anything about it and you know it,” Aoba states. “After tonight, you can stick to him like glue.”

“I won’t be here after tonight,” I say plainly.

“What?” Both the other cats look up at my words.

“I’m going home with Prince Rai,” I state.

“Don’t!” Akira urges. “You don’t even know him! He'll only keep you for a few days and once your heat wears off, you'll be sorry!”

“But it has to be better than how I am treated here! I can’t do this—I can’t walk around the school always trying to protect myself from students and teachers. I won’t be treated like prey to be devoured!”

“I’ll protect you,” Akira says.

“That didn’t go very well last time, and I don’t want to be responsible for your injuries when they let Shiki have you again! Or worse, when _he_ takes you home!”

Akira’s fur bristles out—it’s short but very thick. It’s cute—adorable, really—when his ears get all fluffy.

“Shut up, _both_ of you,” Aoba says. “Even if you do go home with the prince tonight, Konoe, he’s going to return you in a week. He’s a _prince_ , for gods’ sake! You can't stay with him!"

I don’t say anything else. Instead, I purse my lips and pick up a book from the table and page through it listlessly.

Verg comes in a few times to check on us—by which I mean he snaps his fingers and makes all three of us incredibly uncomfortable when that buzzing starts. But thankfully, he turns them off before he leaves.

“What the hell _is_ this?” I whisper, more to myself than the others. I’m so uncomfortable now I can hardly stand it. I really want to take off my clothes—it’s _so_ hot! I can feel a thin coat of sweat covering my skin.

“You really do smell nice,” Akira says again. He stands up from the couch and walks over to me.

“Seriously, _don’t_!” Aoba warns.

“I can’t help it,” he says. Akira throws himself on me, making me fluff out my fur in surprise but not really displeasure. I feel his hands wrapping around my back. While I expect to be made even more sweaty by the touch and even more uncomfortable, I’m pleasantly surprised when his touch is strangely soothing.

But before he can kiss me, Aoba is pulling him off me—desperately. And Aoba is surprisingly strong. I would never have guessed. 

“Don’t! Akira, you’ve already gotten Konoe punished once for this. Do you want to do it again today? _Publicly_? I have no doubt that Virus would make him pay for _your_ actions.”  
  
Akira looks at me—his face filled with guilt.

“I just… I just don’t want him to go with the bounty hunter.”

My ears bristle and flick back against my head. Why not? It’s _got_ to be better than here! Plus… I like Rai.

“You don’t have any say in the matter, and Konoe doesn’t either. You know this. You’ve been through this before. Think about what Virus has done in the past!”

Akira pales slightly and turns away. He sits back down on the couch.

“I have no idea what they’re thinking—leaving you two in here together like this,” Aoba says. He sounds like a nagging mother. “Just… keep your hands to yourself.”

I loosen my cravat and unbutton the top button of my shirt. It’s _so_ hot in here. My leather boots come up to my knees, and they are hot, too! I notice Akira watching me as I do this.

“I’m serious! _Stop_ it!” Aoba yells. “I don’t want to see it! Akira, you can’t have forgotten what happened to me last season!”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. He keeps his head down, pointed to his lap.

The day passes very slowly, but eventually, Virus comes in.

“Stand up, kittens. Let me see you before we let you out into your natural habitat.”

We all obey, and Virus examines each of us. He pins a fresh rose onto Akira’s collar—a deep red. Aoba gets a pretty white and pink lily and I am given a small bundle of jasmine. He explains the flowers were chosen to enhance our natural scents. He buttons my shirt and tightens my cravat, and then gives my ass a squeeze.

“We’re counting on you to break the auction record this evening, Konoe.”

My ears blush when he speaks.

“In the meantime, I expect you to mingle with _all_ the guests, paying them equal attention and being obedient. Pour them drinks, serve them food, let them touch you if they like—but only _over_ your clothes. Don’t be heading off into the gardens alone with anyone."  
  
I wonder—what should I do if Rai wants to walk back to that stream again? I can’t do what Virus is asking and still be obedient to Rai!

“Sir, what if a guest tries to get me alone? What should I do?”

“Comply, but do not undress. You must tell him to bid on you and wait for his turn with you this evening. Also, if he does not win, tell him you will be available starting next week. He can speak to me about making an appointment.” 

I feel nausea rising in my stomach. I’m not exactly sure what to do, but I nod and agreeably mumble, “yes, sir.”

“Keep in mind that Verg will be among the crowd and he may, er, interfere with some of your conversations with that device you are, um, holding.” 

My ears bristle in fear. Meaning… he can just switch it on whenever he likes? I can’t tolerate that! I’ll do my best to keep out of his way.

“He says you are all responding well. Have an enjoyable afternoon, kittens. Be sure to be the upstanding students of Applebaum's I know you are. Each of you has a chance for one of the royalty this evening—if you please them. So work your hardest. Let’s go. The guests will arrive soon.” 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. I wanted to just skip ahead to the evening's festivities. But hey, maybe I will try some (long and boring) plot. However, Konoe realizes that both Aoba and Akira are looking out for him. 
> 
> Triggers: coerced blow job and angst, references to non-con activities and former punishments.

The three kittens are led out to the garden, Konoe the most nervous. All three kittens have been drugged and sedated (from the champagne), a tradition with which Akira and Aoba are very familiar. Konoe doesn’t realize he is probably in better shape because of the champagne, unlike the other two who have experience.

The garden area has been decorated sumptuously. Tables and chairs are scattered throughout the yard, and there are small canopies covering many of the seated areas. White table cloths are used under candle-lit centerpieces and floral arrangements. They are arranged in groups seating between two and four, separated by space and larger floral arrangements, allowing the guests a little privacy.

There is a refreshment area, displaying beautiful food and a full bar—available for the guests and, as it turns out, also to the non-charity students. The social is the event paying students look forward to every six months. They are treated to all the delicious food they can eat, attention from important guests, networking for prospective internships and apprenticeships, and so forth. Plus, even the new students have heard the rumors of a mysterious show that is planned for after the general public has gone home. The social is similar to an open house, and guests are invited to check out the campus as well as the gardens.

When the three charity students are led outside, one thing is made very clear. The three of them are dressed in formal wear, which aside from the fine quality is rather hot for the time of year. The other students aren’t required to dress even in their uniforms. Most of them are dressed in nice casual wear, much cooler. And they are not expected to serve the guests. 

Upon their arrival in the garden, Akira is directed to help with the food, leaving Konoe and Aoba alone for a moment.

Close to the center of the garden, Aoba’s eyes light upon the wood post brought out for the occasion. It’s decorated with white flowers—and even Aoba has to admit it looks quite lovely but it still gives him the chills to see it. This centerpiece is actually a pillory, in which Aoba had to spend some time for disobedience during the last social. That in itself would have been humiliating—but of course, Virus doesn’t settle for humiliation alone, _ever_. Aoba remembers being stripped bare, exposing his backside to everyone present and being whipped soundly for his insubordination. That’s all Aoba remembers about the infraction: “insubordination.” Aoba probably declined to spend time alone with a guest, or perhaps he was interacting with Akira or Koujaku too much, and Virus was interested in punishing him publicly as part of the entertainment. And so he was.

The thought of seeing their newest addition in the pillory makes Aoba feel ill. The kitten is too small, too fragile, but his ass would probably look really pretty up there. Aoba can't think about it without thinking of his own experience, so he warns the younger kitten.

“Konoe. Do you see that decoration in the middle of the lawn?” 

The kitten looks up as directed, and Aoba notices his scent. Jasmine, honey, orange blossom melt together and sink into his nostrils. It’s warm and very enticing. 

“The flowers are lovely, aren’t they?” When Konoe blinks, Aoba can’t help noticing his long, dark lashes, which is unusual for a blonde. Aoba secretly thinks the long hair suits the kitten really well, too.

“They are, but look closely at the pole. That’s the pillory. Do you see how central it is?” 

Konoe nods, but he looks at Aoba curiously. Does the kitten not know what a pillory is?

“If you disobey today—or displease a guest or the headmaster—you will be restrained and punished there. In front of everyone.”  
  
Konoe's oversized ears flatten against his skull. The tips of his ears look rich and shiny in the sun—nearly as golden as his hair.

“Punished how?” The kitten whispers.

“Well, the top part comes off and you are forced to stick your head in the center and then your wrists are restrained in the same way.” Aoba watches as his words sink into understanding. Konoe is a little slow today—probably from the champagne and being handled so much. He’s a sensitive little thing, which sets him up perfectly for discipline. “Then, depending on your infraction, they may or may not strip you from the waist down. Virus used a whip on me last season, but he might also use a paddle or a birch. You can’t move, and they do it right there while everyone watches.”

“Oh, my gods,” murmurs Konoe. He can’t tear his eyes away from the pillory now, and it’s obvious he is afraid. Then he glances at Aoba, desperation in his eyes. “What do I do? I don’t know how _not_ to displease Virus!”

“First, you need to be sure to mingle with the guests. Smile, let them fondle you, be submissive and obedient. If Virus catches you resisting—well, I’m sure he’s waiting for you to slip up.” 

At that very moment, Verg approaches the two kittens speaking in hushed tones.

“Darling kittens, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be mingling with the guests.” He snaps his fingers, turning on the vibrators he placed deep inside them earlier. Aoba flinches, but Konoe is much more discomfort. He will _never_ be able to obey with that vibrator on, Aoba fears.

“Verg—sir,” Aoba says, his voice soft. “This is Konoe’s first day. He’s only been with us for two weeks. Please.” He looks up at Verg through his plush lashes and pulls his lips into a pout. “I think this is entirely too overwhelming for him. Isn’t there something I might do for you to convince you to take it a little easier on him?”

Konoe’s ears tip forward in surprise when he hears Aoba’s suggestion.

“Hmm. What a tempting offer!” Verg purrs, brushing Aoba’s silky soft fur. Konoe is still trembling from the vibrator, tears sparkling in his eyes. Verg glances at the smaller kitten longingly for a second but then snaps his fingers, turning the vibrators off, and grabs Aoba’s arm. “I think I can work with that. Come.” 

He leads Aoba into the gardens for a moment, leaving the kitten alone—his knees weak and trembling. Akira sees him standing alone and approaches to keep him company and help settle his nerves.

In the meantime, Verg drags Aoba off into the gardens. They enter an area of the woods with dense foliage and cool shade.

“Sir, you know my body has to remain, er, untouched until tonight, but perhaps I might serve you another way,” Aoba suggests softly. Verg has led him into a dark, quiet, isolated corner of the gardens, covered in flowers. Verg takes a seat on a bench.

“I would be amenable to that,” he says neutrally. 

Aoba drops to his knees without hesitation. Even that motion alone—despite being in Verg’s presence, which he despises—arouses him. It’s likely that the vibrator and the drugs have also affected him, but he loses no time. He’s done this many times, and quickly unbuckles Verg’s belt and unbuttons his fly.

The demon is already erect—and quite large—but Aoba isn’t impressed or intimidated. He is doing this as an exchange. He doesn’t want to see the kitten punished this evening. He is afraid that a public, humiliating punishment might break him. That would be the last straw, and Konoe wouldn’t hesitate to escape to a place he thinks would treat him better but most likely would be the same or worse. And if he did try to escape and were caught? Well. The punishment would be too much. At least here, he has a few students looking out for his interests.

Starting slowly at first, the blue-haired kitten licks the demon’s navel and drops his mouth down slowly. Using his hands, Aoba rounds his lips and sucks Verg’s dick into his mouth. Careful to cover his fangs and teeth, Aoba bobs his head up and down almost immediately—his intent to get the demon off as quickly and efficiently as possible.

“Use more tongue,” complains Verg. 

Aoba complies—he knows this demon is short on compliments even when he enjoys himself. And it’s obvious as Verg’s dick grows plumper in his mouth and small sounds escape his lips that he is enjoying himself.

Aoba works him over quickly, his hands at the base of his hilt, and it isn’t long before Verg has dug his hands in Aoba’s hair and is thrusting his hips. Aoba manages to stay relaxed, but he always ends up fighting panic when his clients treat him so roughly. In a matter of minutes, Verg’s body twitches and he groans, and come spills down Aoba’s throat. He swallows it—disgusted but appearing eager because of his intent to please—and licks Verg’s dick clean.

Verg loosens the grip on Aoba’s sensitive hair in order to close his pants. 

“That was better than last time. But you need to use more tongue from the start and don’t rush so much. I won’t punish you _publicly_  this time.”  

Aoba bites his lip and tries to suppress tears. A shock is applied directly to the base of his tail, and Aoba squirms in pain and then pleasure—enticing waves of indulgence that flow throughout his body and are made even more intense by the vibrator inside him. 

“This little toy is doing the trick for you, isn’t it? You _want_ it.”

Aoba is in heat so of course, his body wants _something_. Aoba doesn’t reply.

Verg leans down and nips the soft blue ear, right at the tip.

“I hope you think this was worth it. Now, if your little friend manages to misbehave in a way that causes a scene, you know Virus won’t go easy on him. I can’t do anything to help that.”

“Yes, sir,” Aoba says softly. 

“As long as we understand each other. This afternoon has certainly started out well,” Verg muses. He takes Aoba’s arm and gently leads him back to the guests.  

* * *

 **Konoe** :

Several guests have arrived already. The garden is filled with students and teachers, too. I am watching them, trying not to squirm too much with that annoying vibrator inside me—even when it’s switched off I can feel it and it’s distracting. So I don’t notice when Akira approaches. He whispers in my ear, making me bristle my fur.

“I could take you back into the gardens again. I know you want to go. You smell so nice.”

My ears flatten and I try to step away. 

“I’m sure that isn’t allowed. And I am not risking any public punishment for anything today. Aoba told me what that thing is for.” I nod toward the pillory, still amazed that something that looks so beautiful could be used for such a wicked purpose.

I try to walk away, and Akira grabs my arm. 

“Let go of me,” I say calmly. I cannot afford to be punished today! I want to see Rai, and I want to please him. I want him to be pleased enough that he will take me home. I can’t stay here after tonight. Starting off the afternoon being humiliated isn’t in the cards for me today.

Akira looks at me with urgency in his eyes, as one of the teachers approaches. It’s the fencing instructor with pale skin, black hair and red eyes, dressed in fine clothing today, but still all black. Oh gods, isn’t that Shiki, Akira’s least favorite instructor?

“Don’t say anything to him. Don’t speak a single word. Please,” Akira urges me quietly.

“I hope you aren’t trying to seduce the debutante, are you, dog?” Shiki’s voice is silky and flat and carries little expression.

He is frightening. Shiki glares at me—his eyes sparkle ferociously like rubies. At first, he looks at my face and then his gaze travels down my form. He is undressing me with his eyes and it feels disgusting. I look down quickly, shy and ashamed. But I keep my mouth shut.

“Ho? Look at that flirty little glance from you—you bat your eyelashes and look away in such a sexy little way, kitten.” Shiki takes off my hat and runs his fingers through the fur of my ears. “So much plusher than you look! What’s your talent, kitten?”

“Don’t touch him,” Akira growls. “Leave him alone.”

“What’s this? Are you defending him? Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on this little thing,” Shiki says, mocking Akira openly. I’m afraid for him. I don’t want to see Akira punished, too.

“He’s special,” Akira says, his voice quiet and strangely resigned. 

“Oh? Are _you_ going to entertain me for a while? Distract me from your little friend? Is that your plan?” A predatory smirk stays on Shiki’s lips as he looks between Akira and me.

“Y-yes. J-just leave him be. He’s spoken for anyway.”

“Really?” His eyebrows raise at Akira’s words. “And who, might I ask, has spoken for you, little kitten?”

Akira looks at me a gives his head a brief shake—meaning “don’t speak.” I comply, though I am slightly confused as to why.

“The bounty hunter,” Akira answers for me. “The silver-haired bounty hunter.”

“Prince _Rai_ has spoken for you? Someone like _you_ is his type? How surprising,” Shiki purrs. Akira puts himself in front of me—placing his body between Shiki and me—to prevent him from touching me. 

“I’ll entertain you. Do you want a drink?” Akira says boldly.

“Hmph. No. You know what I want.” 

“Well, you’ll have to bid on me like everyone else today if you want that,” Akira replies, openly disgusted. 

“Well, how about a private stroll in the park?” He feels up Akira’s waist in an overly familiar way, and I see revulsion in the smaller cat’s form. It looks like his body is repulsed by Shiki’s touch, and I am afraid he will cause a scene. He doesn’t respond in the way I expect, however.

“Let’s go,” he says, and he takes Shiki’s arm and pulls him away from me.

“Do you want to kiss your new boyfriend goodbye? He’s pretty cute. Do you want me to bid on both of you tonight? You could both entertain me together,” Shiki is saying as he follows Akira toward the park.

Within a minute or so of watching them disappear, it occurs to me that Akira just distracted the fencing instructor for _my_ sake. Whatever is going to happen to him is _my_ fault. I feel terrible about this.

Suddenly, a hand comes to rest on my shoulder gently. It startles me and makes me bristle my fur, and I barely manage to suppress a hiss. When I turn around, it’s Tokino. He is dressed in cool clothing, ideal for a summer picnic. He’s a sight for sore eyes—I’ve missed him so much! I immediately press my nose into his shoulder affectionately, and he does the same. He spends a little extra time taking in my scent, it feels like, but I am desperate for anything tender or gentle.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he says softly. He runs his claws through my hair. “You look really good with your hair long. Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m hot,” I say quietly. “I can’t seem to stop sweating and I feel like I might be sick.”  
  
“Are you nervous?” Tokino asks. His facial expression is hard to read.

“Yeah,” I admit. “I’m also afraid that I will displease the headmaster. He has it out for me.”

“Well, you look and smell amazing. I’m sure you will do just fine.” 

“What are you two doing over here?” Trip growls—and I didn’t hear him approach and he frightens me. “Don’t you smell delightful?” He whispers low in my ear. I feel his breath moving the fur deep inside it and it feels disgusting. I tilt my head slightly but remember to act obedient and submissive. 

“Is there something you’d like me to do? How can I help?” I ask, keeping my eyes lowered to the grass. 

“It’s fine to mingle with the other students, but our important guests are starting to arrive. Greet them and be your usual charming self.” Trip looks around briefly. “Where are your cohorts?”

“Um, Aoba is entertaining Verg, and Akira is on a walk with Shiki.”

“A walk? Hmph. I doubt that,” Trip says. “Come on, then. I’ll introduce you.”

The large cat grabs my arm and guides me toward the beverage station. There are several older cats standing there, and I recognize one of the tall cats. It’s Bardo, who owns the inn where I worked when I first arrived.

“Ah, look at you,” Bardo says softly. I can hear him purring gently. “Aren’t you looking well?! It seems you’ve found your true calling, kitten.” 

“Was he unhelpful at the inn?” Trip asks. I flatten my ears and can’t help seeing that pillory on my left, and I become quite worried.

“Not at all—he was very helpful. I was just surprised to get a kitten so new to the school. It was what, his third day here?”

“I’m glad to hear he did what he was supposed to. We were having issues with compliance, but that problem seems to be clearing up after some strict discipline.”  
  
My ears droop, sad and embarrassed, and I look at my feet. 

“Aw, kitten, don’t look like that! I want to see your smile. I’m glad to hear things are going better.” The tiger scratches my ears softly and I allow this touch. I feel almost grateful for it.

Trip introduces me as their latest scholarship student—and I notice a change of vocabulary from “charity” to “scholarship.” But the result of him introducing me this way certainly garners interest among the cats standing there. I speak politely and demurely, taking care not to make too much eye contact. I meet the owner of a bar in Ransen, a cat named Gen who helps out at Bardo’s inn from time to time, and the owner of a hotel. The cat who owns the hotel reminds me of a snake—his eyebrows are plucked into thin lines, and he has the strangest hairdo I have ever seen—long thick curls hang from either side of his face. His eyes don't meet mine; he keeps staring at my waist. He gives me the creeps. 

But I don’t let my feelings show. I am quiet and polite, making soft conversation about the weather, current events, and where I am from. The longer I stand in the group, the more often I feel soft pats on my ass or stroking on my fur—both my ears and my tail. It’s slightly unnerving, but I don’t really have a choice. Trip seems pleased with me. It isn’t long before Aoba joins us, and he looks the same as he did when he left. He nods at me briefly and gives me a quick smile, which I return while I flick my tail in greeting and thanks. Maybe he was just fine—maybe he was able to simply talk to Verg on my behalf. 

Somehow I seriously doubt it, though.

I mingle with the guests as instructed and I serve drinks as well. I take extra care to be polite and keep a fake smile plastered on my face, which is starting to make my cheeks hurt. I’m relieved, actually, when a new group of cats arrives. I recognize my silver cat immediately, and he is dressed to the nines. He has arrived with Koujaku, who is also dressed impeccably. I mean, Rai usually looks good, but today… that military uniform looks really nice on him like it was designed to accent his best features. Those must be his dress blues, I think. And then—I notice one more person in their party. He has pale skin, caramel-colored hair, and he seems oddly… flat and like he doesn’t wish to be here.

It’s then when Akira shows up again, coming to stand by my side after leaving Shiki scowling at the bar. I see the new cat looking up at Akira with something like interest, and his face softens, his long-haired soft ears bristling slightly—they have a lovely spotted pattern and look a little larger proportionally than Rai’s or Koujaku’s. I wonder if he had a different mother, too.

Akira doesn’t seem to make much of an effort to control the expressions on his face. He looks just a little disgusted and bored, alternately—certainly, he is not at all forcing a smile like I am, for sure. But to my surprise, neither Virus nor Trip rebukes him. Maybe he just doesn’t feel like playing along. How and why isn’t he being punished for that? It makes me very nervous. I’d never dare. 

Virus greets the newcomers on the steps down from the house into the yard. He introduces them formally, welcoming them and announcing their arrival. He introduces them as the king and the two princes—and it occurs to me that that brown-haired cat must be the king. It’s astonishing. He is dressed in fine clothing but it seems uncomfortable on him. He isn’t wearing any jewelry, though his clothes look expensive, nor is he traveling with a guard. He slouches a little more than I’d expect, so it makes his clothes look slightly ill-fitting. I can hardly see any resemblance between him and his brothers. 

Rai immediately looks around and meets my eye with a soft smile. I am currently kneeling politely, like the rest of the students. The guests bow their heads or kneel as well, so it’s easy for me to determine what I should do. He makes his way down the steps toward me almost immediately. When his scent floods my nose, my mind goes completely blank. All I can think about is him touching me, and I feel a little guilty about this. This must be an effect of the heat, I assume.

“Good afternoon, kitten,” Rai purrs softly. Even his voice sounds nice. He pulls me up to stand, sending a strong electrical pulse through my body from where he’s touched my shoulder. “You look fetching today.” Then he leans in a little closer and whispers in my ear, “I’ve been eager to see you. You haven’t left my mind since we last met.” The soft touch of his lips on my ear sends small shivers down my back from their charge.

I feel a blush flood my ears, and his fingers brush them softly. They twitch helplessly—the feeling is confusing and surprising, but it reminds me of the pleasant aftereffects of Verg’s ability.

“I’ve been wanting to see you, too,” I whisper, as though in confession. Strange anticipation shivers down my spine.

“Meet my brothers,” Rai suggests, nodding at Akira to tag along. He tugs my arm and brushes Akira’s shoulder—I see Akira flinch slightly but he obeys, thankfully—and I obediently follow despite my nervousness. “Konoe and Akira, this is Nano, Sisa’s king. And I believe you know Koujaku.”

Seeing all three together and up close, I do see a few similarities—high, defined cheekbones and elegant noses. But there are almost as many differences between them as similarities. I bow again, following Akira’s lead, as carefully as I can, when Koujaku touches my shoulder. I feel a slight electric shock when he brushes me. What was that? Why is he shocking me, too? His pupils are slightly dilated as well, making them look darker.

It’s obvious something has happened by my slight movement, and Rai narrows his eye at his brother. Koujaku just smiles at him, then nods politely at both Akira and me. 

“This is the young Sanga you’ve mentioned?” Nano asks, looking at me. His voice is low and deep, purring pleasantly in my ears. Actually, when he speaks, I realize that he is a really nice-looking cat. Also, if he knows about me, that’s a good sign. Rai must have spoken of me. I feel my cheeks flushing slightly. “I look forward to hearing you sing.” Addressing Akira, he asks, “And you? Are you debuting tonight as well?”

“Um, I will be taking part in the evening’s festivities, but my debut was last year,” Akira says. His voice sounds soft and shy—I’ve never heard him sound nervous before. He keeps looking up at Nano through his eyelashes, and I think I spy a slight blush on his face. It’s an entirely different expression than what he had around Shiki.

“You’ll want to keep an eye on Akira,” Koujaku says to Nano. “I think he will catch your eye. His skill is something quite unique.” At this comment, Akira’s blush deepens, and I shift uncomfortably on my feet.

When Akira starts to talk to the king, he actually offers him a genuine smile, which seems to surprise the king as much as it surprises me. I hear them exchanges a few words in hushed tones, so I can’t understand what they are saying.

“Where’s Aoba?” Koujaku whispers.

“Ah—he was here a moment ago,” I say. I turn around and see Aoba talking to a few guests by the bar. He looks relaxed and comfortable—despite the fact that he knows is coming tonight. I don’t understand how he can be so comfortable with this situation. Of course, it isn’t a requirement for him to strip naked nor will he be required to ejaculate on stage, either. I find myself surprisingly resentful.

Rai notices my shift in expression and suggests we take a walk. I remember the last time we took a walk—I can’t help it—even the sounds I made echo in my ears, an embarrassed and pleasant sensation resting at the base of my tail—and I agree to go with him. He doesn’t even have to pull me behind him. I go eagerly. But as soon as we disappear from the main group, I start to get nervous. However, Rai doesn’t do anything to me except take my arm, at least not right away. We just continue our stroll through the gardens, enjoying the cool.

“I’m sorry I can’t save you from the performance tonight,” he murmurs softly. My hand is resting in the crook of his arm, and he is resting his hand on top of it. His fingers tickle me a little. That weird shocking sensation seems to have faded, but I feel strangely excited. “Believe me, I did try.” 

I really don’t want to think about it. It’s been at the forefront of my brain for the past few hours now, and I realize I am certainly being treated differently than the other two students. I must have done something to displease Virus to bring this upon me. 

“I’ll say it again. There is nothing you can do tonight that will make me adore you any less. So do what they have told you, for my sake.” He stops walking for a moment and turns to face me. His face looks so attractive to me, and I find myself unable to listen to his words. I just really want to groom his ears. My mouth is filling up with saliva. And damn it, I should have offered him something to drink. 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, still staring at his ears. “I should have offered you refreshment.” To my surprise, I can only watch when my own hand (the one not resting on his shoulder) reaches out to comb through the silky fur of his tail. It isn’t till the long white fur is in my hand that I realize what I’ve done. I’m ashamed of my directness and how bold I am—he’s a prince, after all—and I release it immediately. “Oh, my gods, I’m so sorry. I d-didn’t mean to touch you.”

My chin is nudged softly, tipping my face up to his. My heart feels like it might melt—and I realize that Akira and Aoba may have a point. I am extremely attracted to this cat—I have been ever since I first saw him in the parlor. I think my physical attraction has masked any flaws he may have. And still—I'm doing the same. I try to take a deep breath in, getting a lungful of his scent: cool and icy, like freshly fallen snow, mixed with pine. _Winter_. He reminds me of winter. 

“You are doing perfectly. I’m enchanted.” Rai looks around for a moment. “May I take you back to my special spot?”

“Sure.” I follow and then immediately have second thoughts about where we are going and what Virus will do to me if he catches us here. But I am supposed to obey, right? So how can I obey both Rai and Virus? 

“Are you all right?” Rai asks when we approach the clearing outside the forest. I can hear the stream and the forest whispering in my ears. It sounds even prettier today—like nature is singing a song to herself. 

“Um, yes,” I reply. 

“You seem hesitant—no. That’s not it. You seem frightened. Do I scare you?”

“No,” I say immediately. “I-i’m just trying to figure out if I should obey you or Virus.” 

“You can’t do both?”

“Well, he told me to entertain the guests, be compliant and submissive, obey their wishes… And still, I think he would punish me if he found me here, alone with you.”

“He won’t punish you today,” Rai says confidently.

“B-but the pillory—” 

“Gods, they still have that thing? When I was in school, that was used for all sorts of punishments."  
  
“You didn’t notice it? Decorated with flowers?”

Rai’s ears flatten and he repeats himself, “He won’t punish you today. Come, relax. Sit with me.” 

I get the feeling he doesn’t want me to question him or doubt him. So I comply.

“It’s so nice today,” I say softly. Rai gives me a strange look. 

“You look incredibly uncomfortable,” he comments.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. I just wonder what they are trying to accomplish here. Your successful sale is assured, so why go to these lengths?” 

I notice he used the word “sale” and not “auction” or “bid.” Does he intend to take me with him? I want to ask, but I find I’m unable to find the words. What if he hasn’t decided yet? What if he decides after he spends time with me? I mean—after he fucks me. And oh, my gods. He’s going to fuck me! (The fact that I'm even involved in a sale, or that my body is, doesn't even cross my mind until later. All I can think about is him putting his hands on me.)

Sweat bursts out on my skin, dripping down the nape of my neck, and I feel myself starting to tremble. I can’t tell if this is nervous anxiety or sexual arousal—perhaps it’s both. Rai is sitting close enough to touch me, and he pulls my back close to his chest, nuzzling my nape. His lips and tongue lick the sweat from my neck as though he is tasting me, and he is purring really loud. His purrdraws a purr from me as well. I can’t help it, and I’m shivering under his soft caress.

“You smell so good,” he whispers. “Are you still feeling nervous about the performance tonight?” 

That’s right. My foggy brain remembers Rai saying something about me being less reluctant during the mating season. Forget being nervous about being fucked. I'm still scared of the performance!

“Yeah. I’m afraid,” I admit.

“Even knowing I came specifically to hear you sing? And I expect you to sing _for_ _me_?”

“Is this some kind of test?” I ask suspiciously. I try to turn my head to meet his gaze. 

“I want you to sing—for me—in front of an audience. In a way, yes, I suppose it is an audition of sorts. Ah, now, don’t flatten your ears like that. I know you will find it easy to please me.”

How can he know that? How can he be so sure? 

“Maybe you want to practice?” The words are whispered quietly in my ear, which is nipped and licked. I love the feeling of his tongue. It feels rough and gentle at the same time.

“Mmm,” I hum softly. 

“It might make you more confident,” Rai whispers again. If he keeps whispering like this… I’m probably going to sing whether I want to or not. Why is he the only one who is able to pull my song from me in this way? Sure enough, I get an uncomfortable sensation in my chest. It feels tight and my neck is stiff and sweaty. “Come on. I’ve been so patient. Sing for me.” 

I take another deep breath, inhaling the cool scent of the stream, the fresh summer grass, the green foliage, the flowers, and the scent of the cat behind me. I close my eyes and in an instant, Rai’s face comes to mind. I really adore this silver cat. He’s been so kind to me—I can’t imagine him being any other way. And also… he’s so handsome. And… well, he’s a _prince_.

There’s a vision in my head—Rai on a white horse, coming to my rescue. I know it’s completely unrealistic but I really can’t help myself. Maybe it’s hormones or pheromones or something but I can’t stop.

The heavy feeling in my chest lifts for a moment and I feel my skin starting to vibrate pleasantly. My teeth rattle a little in my mouth, and somehow the vibrator inside me switches on. Did I do that? I figured it’s magic—so perhaps my song affects it. But while it feels overwhelming and intrusive, it feels awfully good as well. This feels right—right now, right here—it feels right. 

Maybe Rai had a point about me singing publicly when I’m in heat because I certainly don’t have any qualms about it now.

The song spills forth from my body, easily as bright as the moon of light—and its light wraps itself around Rai and me. It’s much louder than I expect, however—taking me by surprise. And there we are—together—wrapped up in the warmth of the melody. And I hear lyrics in my head.

_Take me. Make me yours. Please don’t leave me behind! I need you, I want you, I love you._

My ears and face flush hot with embarrassment—because while I do mean every word of those lyrics, the song spilled forth without my intending to sound quite so honest. Luckily, I’m facing away from Rai, my back against his chest, and I hear him sigh softly in my ear. It’s a sexy sound, full of desire and need—and then I feel something else pushing inside my chest. Perhaps these are Rai’s emotions? Because of my song, it’s bonding us? It’s hot and passionate—and laced with a desire to dominate and control. I think he wants to control and dominate _me_ , in fact. And the thought he might desire to do such a thing (and that he might actually do it) isn’t repulsive. In truth, it turns me on incredibly.

That I—a plain, small cat from Karou—might affect a cat like him. A bounty hunter. No—a _prince_. Not only because of my song—I can feel it in the emotions surging inside my body— but also because of my scent, my soft fur, my small form, my eyes, my ears, and my tail. He finds all these things enticing. (He finds my tail enticing!) So while I am exposing myself, my thoughts and emotions laid bare before him, I can also see his.

That desire to control and dominate me… should that really affect me this way? Why do I find it so excessively arousing? I would let him do _anything_ he wanted, I think. And this desire comes across in my song as well.

He continues kissing my ears and caressing my waist and my tail. He feels so nice!

However, during my song, my ears twitch at the sound of rustling. Somehow my senses are heightened when I sing. _Shit_ —it has to be Virus coming to check up on me. But it isn’t. I see Akira standing there. He looks incredibly cute—dressed up in his fine suit, a blue tie accenting his eyes, his hair perfectly mussed. 

“Haven’t I given you a task?” Rai growls—and his words and tone surprise me. “What are you doing here?” 

I watch Akira’s tail droop and his ears flatten against his skull. But he maintains his ground, his fists balled at his sides.  
  
“You said you’d take _care_ of him.”

I feel Rai sit up straighter behind me and pull away from me. His voice is slightly louder than it was a moment ago, too, when he next opens his mouth.

“I _am_ taking care of him.”

“No. You’re going to get him in trouble. Virus hasn’t let him sing. He doesn’t let him sing. He’s supposed to be saving it for this evening’s performance.” Akira’s jaw is set firmly—and right now—and only now—do I realize that he may have feelings for me that were not a result of our time with the catnip.

Shit. Does he like me—in _that_ way? He _can’t_. That’s hopeless for both of us! And why haven’t I noticed until now? I can feel his heartbreak in my own chest—and I’m devastated. He got himself punished for my sake. And it’s my fault. I should never have sung to him in the first place!

I get to my feet as quickly as I can, and my song still spills from my body—to Rai sitting in the grass behind me. I feel him brush the fur of my tail—almost as though he wants to grab it and keep me at his side. But I actually _feel_ it when Rai decides to let me get to my feet. As though he is saying, I need to see for myself.

What is it that I need to see for myself?  
  
“Akira…” I whisper.

He sighs softly and just looks at me—and then back at Rai. He doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t have to. I can feel his thoughts, too.

_Don’t say my name like that if you don’t mean it that way._

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, taking a step toward him.

“Don’t let him touch you, at least not now. And stop singing. Or Virus will come after you.”

“Could you hear me—out there?”

“I could. And it’s only a matter of time before… other guests hear you as well and realize what you are.” He looks over my shoulder at Rai and sharpens his tone. “It’s foolish to let him sing.” 

“He’s under my protection,” Rai says quietly. He isn’t being mean, but he does sound awfully arrogant. I’ve never noticed him use that tone before. Have I just missed it?

“Well, you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe in your protection. You have your brother to thank for that. He did a hell of a job protecting Aoba, after all.”

Akira throws another glare over my shoulder and then softens his face when he looks at me.

“Just… be careful. There is attention here you _don’t_ want to attract, Konoe.”

Then he walks back the way he came. My song starts to fade. I’m exhausted.

“You didn’t sing for him,” Rai whispers, pulling me down into the grass and letting me rest my head on his lap. 

“No,” I say quietly.

“Who is he so afraid of?” Rai asks. “It isn’t me.”

“He has a client who treats him poorly. Our fencing instructor. He has warned me about him.”

“Wait—the school’s fencing instructor is a client?” 

“Well, yes. Koujaku is as well.” A short pause follows my words.

“Who is this person?”

“Um, I only met him in person today. His name is Shiki.”

The fingers stroking my hair and pushing it away from my forehead suddenly freeze.

“Shiki?” Rai asks. There is something strange in his voice that makes me open my eyes. I am frightened by his tone. It's cold—ice cold. “What does he look like?”

“He is pale with black hair and red eyes. Tall, like you.”

“You met him today? Did you speak to him?”

“No. I haven’t spoken to him. Akira told me not to say anything to him.” The idea that I might have done something to displease Rai makes me very, very nervous. I know what is in store for me if I stay here—and what will happen to me if Rai changes his mind about me. But I can’t bear to think about it. 

“Good kitten. Don’t let him hear your voice.”

“Do you know him?” I ask, in a whisper.

Rai continues running his fingers through my hair and fur. It’s doing nothing to calm down the heat raging inside me. I wish he’d kiss me—like he did the last time he visited. It’s _appalling_ to think and feel this way—we’re outside, for goodness’ sake! But I can’t really help it. Feeling his hair brush my cheeks every now and then—strands that have come loose from his ponytail—I can’t help remember how they felt against my bare skin. It isn’t exactly soothing but it makes me feel good. Thank the gods the vibrator stopped when my song faded.

“We’ve met,” Rai says. “Why don’t you sleep for a bit? Rest up a little? Close your eyes, kitten.”

I can hardly disobey. Especially knowing that he’s asking me to do this. I trust him when he says Virus won’t punish me. He’s the prince after all. I am under his protection. So I close my eyes and let my mind wander, enjoying his scent and the touch of his fingers.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the auction!
> 
> Please note: Sexual slavery is triggering for lots of people. This fic is REALLY triggering. Reader, beware.
> 
> Also, please note the updated tags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, my editing software is on the fritz, so I apologize for the typos.

After a nice rest, Rai leads me back to the group. Virus is eying me carefully, making sure I behave myself. I try to ignore him as much as possible. I really don’t want to start anything.

The band has set up inside—in the ballroom—and Rai suggests checking out my latest skillset. The ballroom is a large, open space with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a mirror covering the inside wall, and glass windows that open out to the gardens. Also, you can get to the gardens (and the bar) this way, since there are several doors that open to the outside.

The evening breeze is nice—and the music floats into my ears hypnotically. Rai pulls me onto the dance floor and starts dancing with me. He is looking at me—watching me closely—whereas I still have to pay attention to what my feet are doing. His scent is incredibly distracting.

“Relax,” he whispers, making the fur inside my ear ruffle. When I do manage to relax, it really helps—I just follow his movement. He’s even easier to dance with than Koujaku was, I think. When I relax, my body does what it’s supposed to. “My brother was right about you.”

I look up, curling my tail in question, and he strokes it softly. Even that soft touch sends a shiver through my body.

“He said you were unusually good at following his lead.”

My ears heat up—but I’m not really embarrassed. I’m proud of myself. I don’t have Rai on his knees before me, as Virus suggested I would. But I am _sure_ he is pleased with me.

We take several breaks for champagne, and Virus interrupts.

“Your Grace, I’m sorry to ask, but would you permit a few others to dance with Konoe?”

Rai looks displeased, but he allows it. I take a turn on the dance floor with Bardo, Verg, Koujaku (who has been paying Aoba extra attention), and several instructors. However, when Shiki approaches me, Rai interrupts.

“I have the next dance on his card.” His voice is soft but firm. Shiki bristles his fur when he sees Rai. That’s right—Rai said he knew him, but it doesn’t look like they are friendly.

“How’s that eye?” Shiki asks.

Rai doesn’t answer at first, only glaring harshly at Shiki. But then he opens his mouth. 

“I heard you’ve given up your sword in order to teach at this institution. Are you feeling the years? Bounty hunting isn’t for everyone, after all. Those who can’t do, teach.” He’s smirking slightly, and I’m a little surprised to hear him speak to Shiki this way. I am careful to keep my mouth closed, however. 

Shiki growls and declines to answer, stalking off—probably to find Akira, who is currently on the dance floor with Nano—the king. My gods! That would be a perfect match for him. There’s something hypnotic in the king’s movements—he glides across the floor effortlessly.

The hours fly by, and soon, Verg comes to collect Aoba, Akira, and me, presumably for our wardrobe change. I get a sick feeling in my stomach when I see Verg approaching, and I cast a desperate look at Rai.

“It will be fine. You will surely please me,” he says, caressing the base of my ears. “Go on.”

Verg leads the three of us back upstairs to the bathing chamber for a change. He has us rinse off quickly in the shower, which is nice and refreshing. He starts with Akira. He is dressed in skintight, black leather pants, for which Verg needs to apply powder to his legs in order to squeeze into them. They hug his every curve. He is wearing no shirt—but he has some sort of leather and metal harness that makes up for the shirt, I suppose. His skin gleams with a fine silver shimmer. His look is completed with heavy black boots and a hat. He looks totally different and slightly frightening, I think.

When Aoba starts to get dressed, Akira whispers to me, “Just remember what I told you. Do what I tell you and I won’t hurt you.”

Aoba’s outfit is exotic looking. His skin is covered with a semi-transparent gold lotion, and he has a short chiffon blouse that exposes his belly. His harem pants are sheer, too, so you can see his skimpy gold underwear underneath—and he is completely decorated with coins and bells, so he jingles when he moves. He has sandals on his feet and a silk scarf wrapped around his shoulders. He also seems to have been turned into some other creature, and I can’t help gaping.

Then, it’s my turn. I’d been waiting in a towel, and Verg strips it from me—covering my skin with lotion with an opalescent shimmer. Then, he has me slip on a pair of underwear, the likes of which I have never seen. These have a little coverage in the front and a thong in the back—and they are extremely revealing. They are a metallic lamé, color-shifting like the shimmer on my skin.

Leaving me in my underwear, Verg has me lie down on the padded bench, and he starts getting to work on me. I’m not exactly sure what he is doing, but I feel something sticky applied to my lower back, my left butt cheek, and my left thigh. Also, across my mid and upper back to my right shoulder and upper arm—the same sticky sensation. Whatever he is doing, he is concentrating. 

It isn’t till he nudges me to carefully turn over that I see what it is. He is applying sparkling stones in various sizes across my body. He adds a spray of them to my chest, my neck, my face, my stomach, and even the space below my navel. It makes me sparkle.

“These will be very pretty when you sing, I think,” Verg says. “Virus told me that your body glows when you sing. You will catch every eye on the stage.”

Being covered in sparkling stones like this—well, they are stuck to my skin pretty firmly as soon as that glue dries. It’s uncomfortable to sit now since the stones are pokey against my butt and thigh. I can sort of lean to one side as Verg finishes up my face. I feel him putting a gloss on my lips and brushing some sort of color on my eyelashes. He does something to my hair, too—and I can see the now long strands have shimmer and glitter in them.

He asks me to shake my head quickly—and glitter sprays everywhere. He has me stand up and do it again until no more loose glitter comes off of me.

I am afraid I am going to have to be exposed in these tiny underpants, but I am given a pretty two-layer silk kimono, which is folded and wrapped up around my body, tied tight with a wide obi. The underlayer is a soft, silvery-white, and just the collar shows. The outer layer is a pattern of gold, silver, pastel blue, purple, green, yellow, and pink. It’s the most luxurious thing I’ve ever worn. He adds a pair of tabi socks and then finishes the look with a pair of platform geta. It takes me a minute to walk in the geta without wobbling—he has me practice a little, putting one foot in front of the other taking small steps in a straight line. Instead of my entire body wobbling, just my hips sway.

He shows us off in the full-length mirrors—each of us is changed. I don’t recognize myself. In fact, I think if I saw me on the street, I would turn my head to look.

“Fit for a prince, kitten,” Verg murmurs. Of course, he shocks me at the base of my tail, making my fur bristle, before we head back downstairs for the auction.  

* * *

There is a stage set up in the auditorium, Virus explains as we wait in a small room behind the stage. I’m already incredibly nervous, my body sweating slightly, my ears perked up and listening to the strange sounds of a large crowd in the next room. He explains that my only job is to obey and submit to both Akira and Aoba. But I am still incredibly nervous.

“Akira will tell you when to sing, kitten. You have nothing to worry about—as long as you obey. If you choose to disobey tonight, well, your public punishment will only add to your value, I’m sure. You look lovely.”

With those words, Virus heads out of the small reception room and we follow with Verg in tow. 

When Virus heads out to the stage, I peek out behind the curtain. My stomach drops to my feet, sending a wave of nausea through my body. The auditorium is full—every seat is taken. There must be 100 people in there. I can only hear a soft thrumming in my ears and I’m so scared I think I might be sick. What would happen to me if I threw up on stage?!

Verg seems to notice my discomfort—he’s making last-minute adjustments to our costumes. Helpfully, he leans over to me and says, “Relax. Let me help.”

His idea of "help" is sending another shock or two through my body. It does distract me from how nervous I am, but still—it doesn’t fix anything. I flatten my ears and look down, concentrating on my feet. Now I’m worried that my raging erection will be visible to the entire audience.

I take deep breaths, trying to keep myself calm. But the fear just keeps rising.

“Oy,” Verg snaps, making me look up at him. “I told you to relax. _Do_ it.”

My ears flatten at his words. I’m trying my best—but before I can open my mouth to make my excuse, he sends another shock through my body.

“You want him to be able to obey, don’t you?” Akira growls, stepping between Verg and me. I’m shaking now—my knees are about to buckle. My nose and the tips of my ears and chin are numb, and my fingertips are tingling along with my tail. I feel like I can’t get enough air in my lungs and I start to hyperventilate.

“Don’t panic!” Aoba responds to my nerves now. “You’re going to be fine! Keep in mind—your cat is out there, waiting eagerly for you. I’m sure you’ll please him.” Then he lowers his lips to my ear and whispers, “I know he’s waiting for you. He will take good care of you.”

Akira brushes his fingers through the fur on my ears, and my hair as well.

“You really do look pretty—like some sort of magical creature,” he sighs softly. And to my surprise, he kisses my lips.

“Get away from him!” Verg hisses. He pulls Akira away. “Don’t get ahead of yourself! That’s not your place!”

Akira stumbles away from me, and Verg puts himself between us again.

Soon, Akira goes out on stage—greeted by appreciative murmurs. I can hear Virus droning on and on, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. It’s almost like he’s speaking a language I don’t understand, and I become very worried. What if he asks me to do something and I can’t understand?

Shortly after Akira goes out on stage, Verg whispers, “Keep your pretty face up, kitten,” and pushes me out from behind the curtain. Weirdly, there are spotlights shining on the stage so I can’t see the guests in the audience once I'm there. That helps a little, except that I can still hear everyone shifting around in their seats. Also, I don’t miss the murmurs, even over Virus’ voice. 

There is soft sexy music in the background, and that helps me keep my pace when I walk. It helps to concentrate on the music, I think—and ignore everything else that is about to happen. This feels like a dream—and it’s that quality that keeps me from total panic. 

I’m standing on stage facing Akira when he starts his routine. He snaps his whip in my direction—and he _barely_ misses me. I flinch, meeting his gaze immediately.

“Konoe. Face the audience.”

My nerves have me so distracted that I miss Akira’s command. I hear the words—but I don’t understand them. My feet are frozen in place and I can’t seem to obey. I hear Virus saying something about my lack of response, and then Akira hisses at me.

“Konoe! Listen. I don’t want to hurt you—but if I don’t, it’s going to be much worse for you!” 

My ears twitch to his threat and I really do try to obey—but I can’t! Tears surface in my eyes and I’m completely overwhelmed with what I’m about to do. I know what is coming and I don’t think I can do this.At least—

Snap!

A sharp, narrow stripe of pain shoots across the back of my thighs—and it opens my eyes wide and a short meow escapes my mouth in a pitiful yelp. It hurts! That _hurt_! He _hurt_ me! My heart aches, and the tears blurring my vision slip down my cheeks. I meet his gaze and he repeats the command.

“Face the audience.”

Finally, I understand. I turn my body compliantly to face the audience. I’m sure I’m about to throw up, and I happen to glance at Trip, who is glaring daggers at me, tapping the hairbrush in his hand from the side of the stage just behind the curtain. I swallow thickly and pull myself together.

He cracks the whip a second time, and that gets my attention. The tip of the whip connects right at the base of my tail—not touching skin but grabbing a tiny bit of fur and ripping it out by the root. It’s startlingly painful and makes me yelp again, and I turn my face toward him. I obeyed—so why did he use the whip again?

“Slip out of your footwear, kitten.”

I obey, easily slipping the tall shoes off my feet but struggling to slip off my socks, since it’s hard to bend down in the kimono.

“Now, slowly, remove your kimono. Make it pretty.”

The whip cracks through the air again, missing me this time, and my fur bristles. My ears heat up, my cheeks flush, and taking a deep breath, I untie the sash around my waist. It slips to the floor at my feet in a puddle, and the outer kimono comes undone and falls open. The weight of the fabric makes it slip off my shoulders onto the floor. I keep my face lowered to remove the silver layer, but my hands are shaking so badly that I can’t untie the smaller obijime that holds it together.

“Go on,” Akira encourages me. I’m scared he’s going to whip me again.

A couple of tears slip down my cheeks, and I draw my short, blunt claws and get the second layer untied. Static white noise fills my ears, and I don’t undress any further, once the inner layer puddles at my feet. _Please, don't make me strip down to nothing._  I can’t hear anything in the audience—not even Virus—because my pulse is beating so loud.

“Good boy,” Akira says. He approaches me, and I flinch when he reaches out his hand. But he strokes my ears, turns me to face him on stage, and says, “Kneel.”

I obey as he requests, now on my knees wearing only the practically non-existent underwear and glitter. If I looked over my right shoulder, I’m sure I could see the audience in the front row. _If_ I looked. But I’m not going to look. I’m going to pretend that it’s just him and me for now, and I concentrate my gaze on his boots.

My ears twitch when I hear a slight clink of a buckle—and I realize he has collared me.

“Give me your wrists,” he commands.

I hold up my arms obediently, meeting his gaze for a moment. For just a split second, that icy mask softens in apology. It makes me feel a little better but it doesn’t change anything. He straps on two wrist cuffs, also black leather—and they stand out obviously against my pale glittering skin.

Then, he runs his claws through my hair, and it feels so weird touching my mid-back. And then I hear another small clinking sound—and I notice he has attached a chain to my collar. I feel a gentle tug to the collar on my neck and I ready myself for his next command.

“Thank me.”

What? My tail flicks. I really don’t understand. I look up at his face from my spot on the floor, my confusion obvious. He mouths something I don’t understand and tips his chin toward the floor. Oh! I can bow, I guess?  
  
Murmuring quietly, I thank him. It sounds like a small plea, and another meow slips out. I notice when I look back up at him—after he pulls the chain again—that his ears are twitching and his tail is lashing. 

“Come.” He gives the next command and pulls me up to stand.

I obey without hesitation, trying not to see all the glitter under the lights. He leads me around the stage for a moment or two—I hate to think of what he is actually doing, but I think it’s a sort of model walk, meant to show off my “assets.” To my horror, however, Akira leads me to the front of the stage where I see steps leading down into the audience. The spotlight follows us as I have no choice but to follow him, illuminating my skin—and his, too. We walk slowly among the crowd—Akira using a weird strut I’ve never seen him use before. I try to keep my eyes low, but I have to watch his boots or I won’t see where I am going.

“Raise your face.” I do as he requests and keep my gaze on his head as we walk. The stage lighting is much more intense than the single spotlight following us, and I can now see all the cats staring at us—at _me_ —from the audience. I’m walking among chairs and tables, following Akira like a snake—and hands reach out to touch me. I can't do anything to defend myself without risking further punishment.

Every touch makes my skin crawl—I hate the feeling of my personal space being invaded—and it’s horrible to think about the sweaty fingers caressing my ass, my thighs, my tail, my chest, my back, my shoulders, my ears. I want out of here right now.

Tears continue to fall—faster now—and I am _truly_ ashamed. It doesn’t matter how much Verg shocked me or how aroused I am from the heat. I _hate_ this feeling! I don’t _want_ to do this—not for _anything_ …

And that’s when the clean, fresh scent of winter hits my nostrils. It’s so powerful—ringing like a gong in the middle of the night—and it stands out almost alone in a sea of sweat and cologne. It smells _so_ comforting—and tempting—a promise to cool off my hot skin. I _want_ it. I can’t help it. Even despite my shame and embarrassment, I _have_ to look toward that smell.

Then, my ears hear a low, rumbling purr. I recognize it, too, and it immediately makes my own purr respond. I want that sound closer to me. Almost automatically, my feet move toward it—and thank the _gods_ that Akira is leading me there. I can’t help myself—when I see Rai’s long silver mane under the soft glow of candles and then the spotlight. I _have_ to touch him.

“Please,” I whisper. It’s a strangled sound like my voice is hoarse.

His hands reach out to me, stroking my ears tenderly, and I want to fall into his arms, but I can’t because of the collar. A frightening thought races through my mind: What if this feeling—this trapped, stifled feeling of not being able to be with the one I love—what if this is an omen? A foretelling of my abysmal future at Applebaum’s Finishing School. Finishing school, my ass! This place is a personal hell designed for torturing me! 

“You are gorgeous.” A quiet voice murmurs close to me, and it soothes me. Just for a second, it _soothes_ me. It’s enough, I think.

For his sake—for the silver bounty hunter’s sake—for the prince’s sake—I will do this. I will do my best and avoid punishment. 

Akira keeps walking, leading me through the rest of the room—and I walk obediently behind him, but my body starts to get even hotter and more anxious the further I get from Rai. He’s like a magnet is pulling me toward him, and I keep looking back over my shoulder, trying to find him and meet his gaze.

As soon as we reach the stage, however, I can no longer see him, since the lights are blinding.

“Kneel.”

My ears and tail twitch, hearing a new command. I lower myself to my knees quietly and quickly, keeping my head down.

“Crawl to me,” he commands.

Oh, my gods. Why? Hasn’t this been humiliation enough? 

I don’t obey at first—I’m too self-conscious to crawl on stage while in my underwear—but I do the moment that whip connects with my ass. This time, it’s a hard, direct snap against bare skin—and I meow quietly, tears bursting from my eyes. When I reach him on the stage, he praises me again and wipes the tears from my cheeks.

“Good boy.” He gives the leash a little yank, encouraging me to stand up, and kisses my cheek.

I feel incredibly vulnerable and embarrassed, my ears drooping and pressed back against my head, my tail bristled. And I suddenly realize I’m going to have to sing next. I am shaking by the time he pushes me back to my knees and then he takes a little bow.

“Go ahead and sing, kitten.”

I don’t know what to do. I look out in the audience for a moment—and I can’t see anything at first. I try to find my silver cat out there, and I don’t see him!

Again, the whip cracks through the air, connecting with my lower back. I see a little burst of glitter floating through the stage when it hits my skin, and I yelp in pain.

“I am _trying_ ,” I hiss urgently. I deliberately keep looking out into the audience, searching desperately for the person I want to sing for and ignoring Trip and Verg waving their hands at me.

The soft sound of a chair slightly scraping across the floor breaks the silence—and my eyes dart in that direction. I think I see Rai sitting in that chair—the one that just moved. I can’t make out his expression, but I see his pale, long hair. 

But that’s all I need to start my song.

I focus all my energy, all my feelings, all my fear, all my desire, all my needs into the song and direct it toward Rai. My chest feels like it might explode—but more than anything, I want him to get me out of here. I cannot wake up here in the morning. I _need_ to go with him.

_Please… save me. Take me with you._

My song finally bursts from my body in a loud, desperate cadence—it shivers slightly, the melody trembles along with the surface of my skin and all the hair on my body. 

_I need you. I want you. Please don’t leave me here._

A tremendous sense of relief floods my chest the moment that soft, warm glow envelopes me. It feels so good—though I’m still embarrassed and afraid—it feels _good_.

_I’m so scared—but I want to do my best for you. Please—be patient with me._

Of course, that thing buried in my ass starts to vibrate suddenly—I don’t know if it’s Verg or from my song, and the sensation makes my voice tremble even more.

“You are beautiful.” The phrase suddenly echoes in my head—and it’s Rai’s voice. “You are enchanting. Just relax.”

_Is this enough? Please—I’m new but I will try. I will do anything—_

“You are perfect.” It’s as if he is on stage with me, whispering in my ear. I can almost feel the fluff inside my ears move—but these must be his thoughts because I see him out in the audience. He’s easy to see now that the slim tendrils of my song have spread toward him and wrap up his body like silk threads. My song is making him glow. He looks pleased. And _eager_.

_Is that for me? Do you want… me?_

He nods his head just once, and I sing my heart out—letting the rest of the world fade away. I collapse onto the floor exhausted when I finish.

Aoba is out on stage with me now, and his presence startles me. I hadn’t even noticed Akira leave or hand off my leash. He whispers, “That was great. Just a little more…”

I am paralyzed but for my tail and ears, folded up on the floor in a small ball. Aoba grabs my tail—gently caressing the fur, stroking me softly—and that damned vibrator is going on _still_. I feel incredibly overwhelmed by the touch—and Aoba’s scent—and I hear a soft growl from the side of the stage from Akira. He is watching, too.

Actually, the entire _room_ is watching me get off—right here on stage—and my song comes out again in a quick, desperate burst of melody, almost like a shield. Aoba puts the tip of my tail between his lips, nipping me gently and gives my ass a swift pat. More glitter shimmers through the air when he does, and it’s even more prominent because of the light spilling from my body.

It doesn’t even take a full five minutes before I am gasping and ready to come. While part of my brain can’t believe I am doing this— _here_ —in front of everyone—I know the silver cat is in the audience. For _his_ sake… I will do this. In fact, knowing that he is watching me (and I can hear his whispering voice echo inside my heart) is enough to make me finish.

“My gods—from your tail alone? How much more perfect could you be, little Sanga?" 

That soft whisper is the last thing I require—the only reason I haven’t tried to escape this week. And my come spills out onto my lap, my thighs, my stomach, the stage—my orgasm strangely extended by the song and that damned vibrator.

I’m exhausted—I was _already_ exhausted even before the public sex show—and I just lie here. Akira comes back on stage and lifts me—and my clothes—up in his arms, and he carries me off stage. He leaves Aoba on stage to do his own performance—which I realize I don’t think I’ve seen.

“You did perfectly,” he says, and he takes hold of my chin and kisses my lips. Verg is standing right there, and he grabs Akira by the ear, making him yelp.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop right there,” Verg says. “This one is _mine_ now.”

 _His_? What the hell does he mean? I panic—I _don’t_ want Verg to touch me but I can’t move or protest and he carries me into the small pre-stage area (Virus called it the green room, I guess) and sets me down on the couch. He doesn’t bother getting me dressed, but he gives me two hard shocks—which are painful and arousing—even right after what I just did on stage!  
  
“The nice thing about being in season is that you can go again—right away. And I’m sure you will appreciate this.”  
  
“P-please—t-turn that thing off!”

Verg does—thankfully—and the vibrator stops. But he shocks me another two times. I feel blood pooling painfully in my hips.

“Please! Can I take it out?”

“I don’t think so.” He is wiping me up, touching up the glitter on my skin. Then he steps out, leaving me in my glitter, underwear, and collar.

In a few minutes, Aoba comes back into the green room—he’s finished his performance, and he asks if I’m okay.

I nod slowly, and everything sounds weird like my blood is pulsing too loud and it makes everything sound like static.

“Ah, Verg got to you?”

I nod again, and I am having trouble speaking.

“Can you walk?”

I shake my head.

Verg comes back in and picks me up.

“Your last little bit, now. Behave yourself.” As though I had a choice to do anything else!

He carries me back out on stage. I can’t move, so I am displayed just as he likes in his arms, and he shocks me—again—on stage in front of the audience. I can’t suppress a small sigh—a _vulgar_ sigh—in response. Tears of shame drip down my cheeks. I think both Akira and Aoba are on stage with me as well, but I can’t turn my head to be sure. 

Then, he carries me off stage while Virus continues his endless prattle. I can’t understand what he is saying. I just want my silver bounty hunter. I want him to get me out of here. In fact, that is _all_ I want—all I can _ever_ remember wanting in my entire life.

Verg carries me into a bedroom—one of the guest rooms—and it has been especially sumptuously prepared. The linens are deep purple and cream, the fireplace is lit—and every time it crackles and pops I flinch. I _hate_ fire. I’m laid out on the bed, and Verg turns me to my side.

“So you’re defenseless now, aren’t you? At least you’ll be nice and relaxed when your ‘prince’ comes for you.” He curls my arm up under my head, as though he is posing a doll. “I wish I could have afforded you tonight. But I’ll wait my turn like everyone else... assuming you make it through the night in one piece. He paid enough for your life, I’d say.”

His scent, touch, and words are making me ill. But I don’t speak. In fact, I close my eyes—and he still shocks me another two times before he leaves, turning the vibrator back on. I can’t move—I can’t shift around—and my ears and tail twitch frantically. I am heavily aroused—painfully so—and I am feeling so utterly desperate I don’t know what to do. If I could move, I would certainly touch myself. 

A shivering sigh escapes my lips, and I wait. The window is open, so a cool evening breeze comes in. It feels nice against my sweating skin. I see a carafe of wine on the table, and what looks like a small plate of bread and cheese.

I can’t tell how much time passes, but I start to worry that something has gone wrong. I try to rest, but I’m too worked up to sleep. The evening still feels like a dream. I wonder—briefly—about everyone who saw me perform. Was there anyone who knew me from before? What if Tokino’s father saw me? What would I do?

All I can do is wait. And I’m not very patient.

As I lie in bed, my mind starts to wander, and I realize that I really, _really_ want Rai to touch me. And not just touch. I want him to _fuck_ me till I don’t know which way is up. My heart is pounding, my dick is throbbing, I can’t seem to control my saliva. But I do know I want that silver cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Konoe's outfit--well, the glitter and rhinestones, anyway--are inspired from an episode of Electric Dreams. (You should watch that show if you like sci-fi.)


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A check-in with the other characters--from the winning bidders and the other two charity students, who greet their clients for the evening.
> 
> (You know when you "save" a scene that you've planned from the very beginning of a fic and have been anticipating it? I mean, it's the scene you've been waiting to write forEVER, and you've tortured your readers in the meantime. Well, that scene will show up in the NEXT chapter (or two).)
> 
> References to sex and sexual slavery, but if you've read this far...

After the auction, there is a small disagreement between a few of the guests in attendance.

“I’m sorry, but the prince has won the debut’s auction fair and square. You’ll just have to wait until he has recovered and is available. You’re welcome to spend some time with him then,” Virus explains, trying to calm the complaining cat. “You know we are willing to exchange part of your salary to spend with the charity students. You’ve done as much with Akira.”

“That’s just _it_!” Shiki rages. “What the hell is going on?! That little silver-haired kitten is _mine_! And you’ve just given him to the king?!”

“We didn’t _give_ him to anyone, Shiki,” Trip intercedes. “The king won the auction fair and square, just like his brothers did. And he paid a pretty penny.” 

“This was a set-up from the beginning! You’re doing this to humiliate me! And my gods, you’ve had a _Sanga_ —a genuine, young, _unbonded_ Sanga—right here in this school and you failed to mention it to me?! Knowing me to be the great swordsman and Touga I am? What the fuck?!”

“Shiki, calm yourself. You were permitted to bid on him the same as anyone else,” Virus says.

“But he was here this _entire_ time—and you’re selling off his virginity to _that_ crazy asshole?! Don’t you know what you’ve just done?!”

“We’ve made a great deal of money—more than this school has ever seen in a single night,” Virus replies neutrally, pushing his glasses up on his nose. 

“You _cheated_ me! Out of my own charity student _and_ that new one! You’ve been deliberately _hiding_ that kitten from me!” 

“We did not cheat and Konoe has been here for the past two weeks. Of course we kept him segregated—for the sake of chastity. You know just as well as anyone how auctions work,” Trip says. “You could have outbid either the king or the prince and you chose not to.”

“I don’t have that kind of money!”

“Is there a problem?” It’s the silver-haired prince, looking rather smug. He looks down his nose at Shiki and smirks. “Or sour grapes for not having won one of the prizes this evening?”

“Fuck you,” the red-eyed cat growls in reply. “I _know_ you set me up to fail. I know you set up the king with my kitten, you fucking bastard.” 

Rai growls low in his throat. 

“You probably don’t want to get into it with me right now. This is a public setting. You’ll risk your precious job, reputation, _and_ your life,” Rai says, his voice low. “I have always outmatched you. Can you imagine what it might feel like to fight me with that little kitten at my side?” 

“You set up Akira with the king, didn’t you?” Shiki shouts accusingly.

Rai is watching the fencing instructor's hands carefully—the moment Shiki draws his katana, Rai will draw both of his weapons without hesitation. Rai is a stronger fighter since he is still actively hunting, but Shiki is no slouch and has a very quick draw. Both Tougas are ready for a brawl, and Virus is thinking that for the future, he will collect the auction attendees’ weapons at the door.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for you to do something stupid. I never thought it would be this. What’s your problem? It’s a fucking _auction_. Let your king have a little fun for the evening. It will serve him and the kingdom and help relieve his stress. That little silver-haired kitten is _just_ his type!”

Shiki bristles his fur, drawing his claws and baring fangs. The slim, brown cat others recognize as the king joins the group. His approach is nearly silent and Shiki doesn’t notice.

“You don’t _know_ his type! That act—on stage—that’s all it was. An _act_!” Shiki is yelling now, fur bristled, and Rai is responding with a growl and bristled fur, claws drawn, and fangs bared. 

“Brother, you’re not causing a disturbance, are you?” The king’s voice is soft and low and though he is addressing Rai, it makes the hair on Shiki’s neck stand up. Shiki’s pupils dilate fully, black edging out the blood red of his irises. Of course, the silver-haired bounty hunter is dangerous—Shiki is well aware of his prowess from previous personal experience. But the _king_ has an entirely different effect on him. Shiki wouldn’t admit it, but he’s _terrified_ of the king.

“Of course not, Nano. And congratulations. I’m glad you came tonight.” Rai’s voice is perfectly calm.

“You’ve truly honored us with your presence, Your Highness,” Virus says, bowing his head and nudging Trip, encouraging him to do the same. 

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy your evening with Akira,” Trip adds. “He has quite a unique skill set.” 

The king nods his head once, noticing Shiki bristling with anger with what would probably look like indifference to most bystanders. Rai can’t help notice the smallest hint of a smile on his half-brother’s lips, making the corners of his mouth quirk up just a little. Rai gets a satisfying sense of schadenfreude from Shiki’s frustrated reaction, too. The silver-haired kitten did well in keeping the little Sanga hidden from the rest of the staff and students. He deserves a treat this evening.

“Well, let’s not waste any time, Your Highness, Your Grace. Shall we show you to your rooms?” Virus says. In a lower voice, he hisses, “Shiki, you will remove yourself from the premises if you want to keep your job.”

Koujaku joins the group at that moment.

“Are you starting shit again?” He teases his younger brother. “Come on. You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Don’t rub it in if you don’t have to. But wow. I can see what you mean about the kitten’s voice. I had a feeling, too—but just you wait. He’s awfully… submissive.”

Rai growls at Koujaku.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said. He’s compliant and biddable. Not to mention—”

“I don’t want to hear your opinion! What the fuck would you know about it, anyway?” Rai bristles, and he’s irritated again at Koujaku’s unique ability to push his buttons. He needs to calm down.

“I’m just saying, in my experience teaching him to dance. He’s a _natural_. I wonder if it’s because his song emanates from his body instead of an instrument or his mouth. I wonder what _else_ will come naturally.”  
  
“Shut up,” Rai hisses.

Nano simply watches his two brothers bicker back and forth and as usual, he doesn’t interfere. He has always been confused as to why his youngest brother lets himself be so easily goaded by his next youngest brother. It’s baffling. 

“You too, Your Grace. You honor us with your bid for Aoba. I know he will serve you eagerly,” Virus says, bowing his head to Koujaku. 

“May I show you to your rooms?” Trip asks, and he jerks his chin at Shiki, trying to get him away from the conversation. Shiki stalks off, heading out to the garden. 

* * *

 

Aoba and Akira have headed to the rooms provided for the rest of the evening’s entertainment.

Aoba is relaxing in the cream-colored room, wondering what the evening has in store for him. He is feeling quite pleased with himself. He got a lot of attention from Koujaku, and his heart is still fluttering from it all. He was almost certain Koujaku was planning to attend for Konoe’s sake, but Aoba stayed in the green room till the end, listening to all the auctions to discover the winners and was pleasantly surprised. 

He’s still amazed as to how much money exchanges hands—even to spend the night with him or Akira who already have some experience. And that his prince would spend that sort of money on him—when he isn’t the inexperienced, innocent kitten he used to be—well. It gives him hope.

During the bidding itself, Aoba noticed Virus’ words in describing the bidding. He called it a “charity auction,” designating the bids as donations to the school. He also suggested donations outside of the auction were always welcomed and that the school relies heavily on these to help "support the charity students' education." It felt insulting and dishonest, actually—since it’s really an exchange of money for services. Ridiculous!

He wasn’t surprised that Prince Rai won the kitten’s auction. But he was surprised at how many cats were bidding on him, including Shiki, the fencing instructor who has a thing for Akira, much to the silver kitten’s chagrin. Perhaps it was because there was a roomful of Tougas that the young Sanga made such an impression. Though he’s certain that couldn’t have been _all_ of it. Konoe certainly looked delicious (and mortified), especially after his little performance on stage. Even Aoba felt attracted to the kitten’s sweet scent, too—like honey and jasmine, perhaps, sweet and sticky. Surely, Verg did the kitten a favor with his specialized (and repeated) shock treatment. 

While alone in the room, Aoba slips off his sandals and removes some of the more bulky jewelry. He hasn’t been intimate with Koujaku for some time, and he enjoyed the last time they spent together so much. Aoba is looking forward to seeing him again and showing him what he has learned and demonstrating his confidence. Plus, he will get to see the hot dance instructor naked.

He couldn’t help noticing that today, Akira managed to capture the _king's_ attention. Aoba is hopeful about this, too. The previous ruler wouldn’t have been caught dead at a place like this. He called Koujaku's affiliation with the school "unseemly." Could it be that Sisa’s current ruler might not think so poorly of a prince and a charity student ending up together? Sure, he doesn’t have the same magical skills that Konoe displayed so enchantingly. But he is a great dancer, and he’s not entirely useless. In fact, Aoba would bet that his skills in the bedroom are much greater than the kitten’s, at least at this point—who has very little control or experience. Plus, Aoba is confident he has the organizational skills to run a royal household—not that he's thinking that far ahead.

Aoba is considering a bath to wash off some of the glitter on his skin when there’s a knock at the door. He fixes his hair and takes a seat on the loveseat in front of the fire.

“Come in,” he says in his sweetest voice.

Of course, it is Koujaku. Only Koujaku would knock so politely. He has always treated him respectfully—even his first time, he treated him like an independent cat with real feelings and not the slave he is. Aoba doesn’t bother to get up when Koujaku enters, and after checking him out while he stands in the doorway, he turns his face to the fire. 

“Hmph. What are you doing here?” Aoba asks, a little pout arranged carefully on his face. He’s still pissed off that Koujaku didn’t run away with him last year after his own debut. But he is certainly pleased to see him again. There’s isn’t anything to dislike about this cat—as a cat or a prince or a client. Koujaku is certainly his favorite. However, there’s no way he is going to let him get away with ignoring him for so long without some sort of consequence.

While thinking such things, a nervous shudder tickles the base of his neck. The kitten—Konoe—he is going to be spending his first night with the silver-haired prince, the bounty hunter. From the rumors, that cat is _nothing_ like Aoba’s prince, who is gentle and kind. At least, not by reputation. He is slightly nervous on the kitten’s behalf. Despite Konoe’s eagerness and enthusiasm, Aoba wonders what sort of experience Rai has with other males—especially young, _small_ males. Tonight should go all right as they are both in heat and Konoe has had some extra help from catnip and devil of pleasure—but what if Rai decides he wants to spend some extended time with Konoe? What if he takes him to his home? After the peak of his heat has passed? Does he know what to do or will he cause the kitten pain? Could he hurt him permanently? Could he _kill_ the kitten accidentally? A cold fear shudders down Aoba's spine and into his tail at the thought.

“You were absolutely enchanting this evening, my kitten.” Koujaku enters the room, closing the door behind him. “What’s wrong?” 

“Oh—um, nothing really,” Aoba replies. He tries to wipe the concern from his face and his mind.

“Would you like a glass of wine? Some food?”

“I’ll have some wine,” Aoba says, not moving even an inch from his seat. In fact, he stretches himself out a little on the sofa. He watches as the prince next in line for the throne pours him a glass of wine. He can’t help feeling a little turned on by the idea that the prince is serving him. How _else_ might Koujaku serve him this evening?

“Here you go.” Koujaku takes a seat on the sofa next to him, and immediately nuzzles the blue kitten’s ears. “Mmm. You smell so good. So what’s on your mind?”

“I’m surprised to see you here. I thought I’d already served your purpose.” Aoba doesn’t bother hiding the catty tone from his voice. Koujaku chuckles a little at his irreverent response.

“Even if I had you for your entire lifetime, I don’t think you’d ever finish ‘serving my purpose.’ Not that it isn't adorable, but how long do you plan you to stay angry with me?”

Aoba clicks his tongue before taking another sip of wine, but he doesn’t reply. Truthfully, he isn’t actually very upset now. In fact, Koujaku’s presence now is soothing his pride quite a bit. He’s awfully happy to be permitted to spend the evening with his prince again.

“Well, I’ll have to see what I can do to change your mind,” Koujaku whispers into Aoba's bristled ear. It feels nice to have this cat so close. It’s much more comfortable than the first time they were together, and being in heat is distracting and wonderful.

“I was just wondering about your brother,” Aoba says. His words make the soft touch to his ears stop suddenly.

“Which brother?”

“Your younger half-brother. Well, both of them, really. But first, about your younger brother.” 

“What about him?” There is a tinge of jealousy in Koujaku’s voice that he doesn’t try to hide. “Are you going to tell me you’re interested in him?”

Aoba giggles softly.

“No. Although I’m glad I can still make you jealous.” 

“What about him?” Koujaku repeats.

“How serious is he about… the debut?”

Koujaku sighs softly.

“I’ve never seen him interested in another cat before now. And this is bordering on obsession.”

“Will he be kind? To Konoe, I mean? The kitten is very sensitive and has no experience.”

“As kind as he can be, I suppose." 

Koujaku’s words aren’t very encouraging. Aoba purses his lips in displeasure. Koujaku continues.

“What? He’s in heat, isn’t he? I mean, there’s no way he wasn’t—with that scent, that siren song, that extra bonus performance on stage.”

“What do you mean about his scent?” Aoba asks sharply. “Did you notice it?”

“How could I not? It’s strangely sweet. Almost like…” 

“Like what?”

“Well, I’ve never smelled anything like it before. Of course,” the brunette cat adds quickly, “not as nice as _your_ scent—which smells cool even in the peak of your heat. Like a tall glass of lemonade on a hot summer day.”  
  
“You know,” Aoba pulls away from the brunette for a moment, trying to act at least a little contemptuous and failing. “You _paid_ for me. There’s no reason for you to try to woo me.”

“But that’s just the kind of cat I am. I want you to know I desire you,” Koujaku says smoothly. “And…”  
  
Aoba turns back to him to meet his eyes. Reddish brown—a warm color—Koujaku’s entire complexion is warm. So different from his own cool coloring. He’s always felt that this cat is warm and cozy. He can't wait to touch him, to feel his skin next to his.

“And what?” Aoba asks, making his voice a little softer.

“Well. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep,” Koujaku whispers, leaning in close. “But with my brother as interested as he is in that little kitten, I can’t help but be encouraged on my own behalf—and yours.”

Aoba’s ears perk up and the long fur on his tail bristles at the base. 

“Oh? You’ve forgiven me then?”

“I wouldn’t say _forgive_. But I will let you make it up to me.”

Koujaku smiles wickedly and takes a sip of wine.

“I’d be delighted.” 

* * *

 

Akira is waiting in the burgundy room for his guest for the evening. He also waited with Aoba in the green room, and he heard that the little Sanga indeed went to the bounty hunter this evening. Thankfully, he is in heat, so it shouldn’t be a painful experience. But Akira can’t help remembering the rumors he’d heard about that cat when he was young and in training. He fears for the kitten’s safety.

It was said the bounty hunter was cruel to a point of being sadistic. Akira is worried for the starry-eyed kitten with the enchanting voice. He has so little experience he may not be able to tell what behavior is normal and what he ought to decline or resist—although, perhaps if his partner was a prince and a bounty hunter the size of Rai, he probably would not be able to decline anything at all.

Unfortunately, Akira was led to this room before he could hear who had won his own auction, though he expects the worst. Surely, Shiki would be bidding on him again, if only to make sure that he couldn’t enjoy himself even a little bit. For a moment, he considers if Shiki and the silver-haired bounty hunter might be similar in the bedroom. He hopes not. And certainly, the prince acted with almost courtly manners around the kitten. Perhaps he needn't worry so much. Shiki will probably be awfully disappointed that he didn’t win the young Sanga as well as his own auction like he’d planned and expect to take out his disappointment on Akira's body. However, there’s no way a fencing instructor could compete against a prince, at least financially. 

Throughout the evening, Akira noticed that the king—the attractive slender brown-haired cat—had been paying him special attention. Life hasn’t been kind to Akira, so he won’t let himself hope that he could have attracted someone so important. In some respects, it’s better this way. At least Akira is in heat, and no one else will have to suffer from Shiki’s attentions. Specifically, he is concerned about Konoe attracting unwanted attention, and that concern only increases. After tonight, the little Sanga will be a target for students, teachers, and guests. There won't be anything preventing others from assaulting him.

Akira paces back and forth in the bedroom, trying to get the little Sanga’s song out of his head. He knew the kitten was singing for the bounty hunter. The song was not meant for him. He _knew_ that. So why did it make his heart ache?

In a little while, the door opens to his room—no knock, of course, but Akira doesn’t expect it. He doesn’t glance up at first, continuing his nervous pacing. Not until he hears Virus’ voice.

“Please, enjoy yourself, Your Highness. Again, thank you so much for your attendance this evening. If you should require anything at all, Akira has the experience to provide it.”

_Your Highness?_

Akira’s ears perk up and his tail curls questioningly. When he turns toward the door, he can’t keep his jaw from dropping when the king enters the room. The king doesn’t say anything—not even a single hum in response to Virus. He simply enters and shuts the door behind him, leaving Virus outside looking more confused than Akira has ever seen.

Does this mean he _won’t_ be spending the night with Shiki? Akira can hardly believe it. He doesn’t know the king, but surely his tastes won’t be as violent as Shiki’s!

It struck him earlier—the king’s manners are very different from any other cat’s. Perhaps he can get away with it as king, but it still struck him as odd. He doesn’t seem to answer questions directly, and he doesn’t really speak much at all. And when he does, his words sound like riddles.

“Your Highness,” Akira says softly. He drops his face in a bow and quickly lowers himself to his knees. He isn’t quite sure about the etiquette of serving royalty in the bedroom. He should have asked Aoba and forgot. But even so, Aoba’s prince, the dancing instructor, has very different manners that the king before him now, so he may not have been much help.

Akira bristles his fur when his ears are suddenly stroked with excessive tenderness. He is a vigilant cat, but even he didn’t hear the king walk across the room. His feet didn’t make a sound. His chin is brushed lightly and he glances up, daring to meet this strange cat’s gaze. His eyes are deep midnight, with purple swirling in them. And his pupils are dilated.

It’s an extraordinarily handsome face. The king is not from Ransen, that’s for sure. He wonders about Nano’s heritage—he is smaller than the bounty hunter or dance instructor. In fact, he is only a few inches taller than Akira himself. He knows that the previous king had more than one wife, but he isn’t sure how many.

“Your Highness,” Akira greets him—he is amazed and confused, slightly dazed by the presence of royalty in his room.

The king nods his chin once to indicate Akira should stand up and motions to a chair. Akira complies, getting up quickly and taking the seat where the king has indicated.

Nano takes the chair across from him, gazing at him intently. Neither of them speaks for a few moments and despite Akira’s previous experience with these sorts of auctions, he feels slightly awkward. Not because of the silence, though; more because this is the nation’s _king_. 

They sit for a few minutes, just staring at each other. Akira feels a little strange—and he noticed this, too, when he was dancing with him earlier. Nano’s touch has an odd effect on his body, and not just from compatibility in the season. A calming effect is how Akira would describe it. It’s a gentle feeling—but when the king touched him even just now, it felt like his blood was boiling and simmering just beneath his skin, as though longing to get closer to this royal person. 

Is it because he is royalty? Akira has never been interested, much less fascinated, by any person of noble blood. In fact, the bounty hunter feels almost repulsive to him—most likely due to Akira’s jealousy of the kitten’s affections. And to Akira, Koujaku seems kind and gentlemanly, but there seems to be a slightly fake quality in his interactions with others. Unlike many other students at this school who spent their lives chasing the news of royalty as though their actions might affect the students’ personal lives in some way, Akira couldn't be bothered.

But now, he can’t deny the attraction and power of royalty. In the king’s presence, Akira is definitely intrigued by the cat gazing at him.

“Did you, um, purchase my services for this evening?” Akira asks. While the king wouldn’t be here otherwise, it’s better to confirm these things in advance. Just to be certain. 

Nano tilts his head to the side. Obviously, he did if he is here now. 

“I see,” Akira says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Ah, I’ve forgotten my manners. Can I get you something to drink, Your Highness?” He’s embarrassed he forgot his manners. 

“Nano.”

“Excuse me?”

“My given name.”

Akira blinks once, and then again. He’s slightly confused. Does this mean the king wishes to be addressed as Nano? That seems awfully informal. Even as a cat who never cared much for social conventions, Akira still finds this a little strange.

A few more minutes pass in silence, only the fire in the hearth cracking and popping. Akira is unsure as to how to start off the evening, and he breaks their eye contact to glance at the fire, wondering if he should add more fuel before they get started.

After the last auction, Shiki bid on him, and there was no delay. Shiki walked in and stripped Akira quickly—almost in a business-like fashion—and began to torture him. He hasn’t really spent much time with other cats in this way. Well, except for the cute little Sanga… that afternoon last week outside in the forest, taking them both by surprise. As harsh as the consequences had been for them both, Akira can’t bring himself to regret touching him. 

A soft sound startles the young cat’s attention back to the king. His fur bristles in surprise when he finds the king—the ruler of the nation—on his knees before him, looking up at his face with an earnest, hopeful, and eager expression in his eyes. His hand is taken gently by the king. His skin feels smooth and cool to the touch, but there’s an obvious compatible connection between the two of them. Even more, the gentle touch feels a little ticklish, and he can feel his pulse just underneath the surface of the skin.

Fascinated, Akira watches the king slowly bring his hand to his mouth, and he expects a kiss on the back of his hand. But instead, the king sucks Akira’s pinky into his mouth—warm and welcome—and a little shock runs down Akira’s spine. That sensation again—bringing the blood up to the surface of his skin as if it wants to touch the king. Nano pulls Akira’s pinky from his lips, scraping it lightly with his fangs, and then sucks Akira’s ring finger into his mouth and wrapping his tongue around it.

A soft sound escapes Akira’s lips. It’s an incredibly sexy sight and the gesture feel heartbreakingly tender. He closes his lips quickly to prevent any additional sound from coming out, leans forward in his chair, and strokes Nano’s ears, hair, and cheek with the hand not currently being tended. Nano continues meeting Akira’s gaze with upturned eyes, and he looks… _submissive_. 

This is so different from anything he has ever done or ever expected. Even when Akira thought of the little Sanga, it wasn't like this! It’s almost as though the king is asking for Akira to demonstrate his “talent” this evening! A nervous feeling floods his body. This is the _king_ , after all. A cat like him—a charity student—has no business ordering the king around! Perhaps he should confirm, just to be safe.

Looking down at Nano, and running his hands through the silky fur, Akira tries to find the words to ask what his client would like. But as the king is currently tending so carefully to his index finger, it’s slightly distracting. 

“Um…” Desire is pooling heavily in his waist—in addition to the oppressive desire he usually feels with the season. This is a different kind of eagerness; a hopeful eagerness, one that allows him to believe that he might not actually have to suffer through this evening. But the king doesn’t say anything. His mouth is full, after all.

Even his teeth look attractive, Akira thinks. A warm sensation flooding his chest, he looks a little more closely. For the small stature Nano has, at least compared to the other two princes, his fangs look slightly longer proportionally. And they are sharp, as his fingers can attest, even from the very gentle scraping along the sides.

“How can I serve you?” Akira asks, keeping his voice low—and what he hopes is submissive.

The king doesn’t reply with words, but a sudden lust-filled impulse flashes through Akira’s chest when the king meets his gaze. After he has finished sucking on Akira’s thumb, he pulls away and nudges Akira’s knees as if urging him to stand up.

Akira complies—and again, to his utter shock, the king prostrates himself on the floor, lowering his head to his hands in an elegant bow. Power flashes through his body, and the feelings he brings up when he puts on his stage mask—the urge to control, dominate, subjugate—flow through his body and start to pool in his groin. He takes another sharp breath, trying to control himself, staring at the king's long, slender neck. He wants to bite that elegant, smooth skin. And the sudden thought frightens him a little, though it's irresistible at the same time.

The realization that the most powerful cat in the land is currently on his knees before him strikes Akira to his core. The pleasure and anticipation become nearly unbearable. He can’t believe his luck!

And for the first time in two weeks, the thoughts of the little Sanga kitten disappear from his mind completely.

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap! It's THAT chapter.
> 
> Konoe is nervously waiting for Rai in one of the guestrooms. He's apprehensive because of all the warnings he's heard about the silver cat, but his body is badly in heat and his anxiety is easily trumped by desire.
> 
> There's sex in this chapter, and it's surprisingly consensual.

**Konoe:**

By the time I hear footsteps approaching down the hallway, I can move my fingers and curl my toes, so my ability to move is slowly returning. After having sung three times today—twice in the span of fifteen minutes—I’m shocked. Maybe I _am_ improving. The sound of the footsteps makes my ears twitch in anticipation, and I try to keep my tail from lashing impatiently. 

The door opens—and of course, Verg posed me on the bed so I'm facing away from the door. I can’t see who is coming in without turning around. But I don’t have to see. The moment the door opens, the cool scent of winter floats into my nose. It’s delightful—mouthwatering, even—and relief seems to both alleviate the heat in my body and make me feel even hotter.

Rai doesn’t say anything, though I can hear Virus telling him to enjoy the evening. The door closes behind him, leaving Virus outside. I hear some clothes rustling—maybe he’s removing his coat. I feel a soft touch on my hip and I try to turn my head and can’t quite do it yet.

“Enchanting.”

My fur bristles the moment I hear his voice, and my ears tip toward the sound. All day today—and even more now—his voice has had a strange effect on my body. It makes something inside my chest vibrate and turn to liquid. It sounds so sexy and tempting! Then he walks around the bed into my field of vision.

“All this—as lovely as it is—can’t be comfortable, can it?”

“What?” I ask, glancing up at him as he looks at my body.

“The glitter?” He strokes me for a moment, my hip, to be precise, letting his fingers trace the stones and glitter stuck to my skin. “I mean, it’s gorgeous on you, but can’t you feel it?” He turns me onto my back for a moment, grabs my ankles, and slides me down to the foot of the bed. I can indeed feel those damned little stones poking into my skin.

“Yes. It’s uncomfortable.”

“I want to wait till you get more of your energy back anyway. Let’s get rid of it.” 

He stands up and heads to the table. There are some cloths and a bowl of water there, which he brings back to the bed. Dipping one of the cloths into the bowl, he starts at my collarbone and shoulder. The cool water feels nice against my hot skin—his touch so tender that I melt.

This isn’t exactly what I was expecting. To be honest, Aoba and Akira have been harping on me the past few days about how violent this cat is and what a horrible reputation he has. I found it difficult to believe—just based on the time I’ve spent with him alone. He hasn’t touched me roughly so far. I wonder if he is pretending to be someone else around me, maybe so I won’t be afraid of him—he even _asked_ if I would be “open” to his advances last week. Before he decided to bid on me, he bothered to _ask_. I wonder, though, if I had refused, would he have still bid on me? Was he _really_ asking for my consent or just trying to make me feel better? At any rate, he can’t be what they think he is—at least not in his private life and in the time he spends with me. 

He keeps glancing at my face while concentrating on the task of removing the glitter from me.

“I still can’t believe how relaxed you are after singing. You’re so vulnerable.” His voice sounds heated, and it makes my ears twitch. I hear restrained desire in his tone.

“Um, yeah.”

A few moments pass, and I start to feel a little more self-conscious about all the skin currently on display, as though the awareness of my nakedness outweighs the comfort of his touch. My anxiety is increasing.

“Konoe.” 

His tone is suddenly quite serious, so I glance back at him nervously. I am immediately filled with nervous anxiety. Was my song too weak? Did it sound horrible? Did it connect with someone other than him? Am I not good enough? Panic starts to rise uncontrollably and I can’t stop the flow of words from my mouth.

“Please,” I whisper, tears flooding my eyes. “Please—you _cannot_ leave me here! Please! I will do _anything_ —I will be your slave for the rest of my life if you take me away from this place! Even if you don’t want me to sing for you, at least make me your servant—” 

“Oy… no. What is this?” My chin is brushed gently, making me meet his gaze so he can lower his lips to my face. I think he intends to kiss my nose, but I tilt up my chin and catch his tongue in my mouth. He chuckles softly. “So eager.”

“I-i j-just can’t be left here,” I urge. “ _Please_ , don’t leave me.”

“What makes you think I would consider leaving you here?”

I stop for a second before replying.

“Well… weren’t you displeased with me? My song? It was weak, wasn’t it? It didn’t focus enough of my energy on you? Honestly, I was tired even before I got on stage—I shouldn’t have sung to you out in the garden—and my body feels weird like it’s not quite in my control.”

“Kitten…” Rai sighs softly. He shakes his head gently while his hands continue removing the glitter from my shoulder. “That’s not it. Not at all. You did very well. I’m very pleased. You even sang twice in such a short amount of time. It was very powerful.”

“Why did you sound so serious?”

“I just couldn’t believe how it felt. I didn’t know your song could change and get even stronger,” Rai says. I look up at him and he won’t meet my gaze for a moment. The cloth is just below my belly now—and it tickles terribly. I can’t move, but my skin keeps twitching. “Are you ticklish here?”

“Mmm…” I’m not sure I want to admit it. It does tickle but something else, too.

“Let’s get your back.” Smiling, he turns me onto my stomach and gets to work on removing the sparkling stuff from my backside. I cannot believe how exposed I feel in this collar and my underwear. I wonder if I’d be better off naked? It’s almost more embarrassing to have him touch me like this than it was to strip in front of the entire auditorium. He keeps his voice soft, but I feel impatience behind it. “Why did you think I wouldn’t enjoy your performance? You’ve mentioned something like that before.”

My ears flush as I take a moment to answer. His fingers touch the tip of my ear, and he chuckles softly again. 

“It was just so… _shameful_ ,” I say, keeping my voice soft. It’s easy to do since my face is in the mattress right now. I turn my head to the side so I will be heard—I can move my neck again. “What they made me do…”

“It was beautiful. I have never seen a cat become so excited from just a caress to his tail.” He touches my tail softly and it sends a shudder through my body. “I should have guessed. Didn’t you try to touch my tail the very first day we met?”

“Um…” I wonder if I should deny it, but it’s obvious he remembers.

“I’m not quite that sensitive.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” I whisper quietly. 

“It’s nothing to apologize for. It will make things a little easier, I think… in the future.”

“Future?” My ears prickle when the silver cat speaks of the future.

“Yes. If you decide to come with me. Your body may not always feel like it does right now. And I… won’t want to wait for the season to come around only twice per year. It’s important to me that you also enjoy when we… connect.”

Wait a second. Is he talking about sex right now? I’m not sure I quite understand.

“If I went with you, wouldn’t you want me there as a Sanga?”

“Yes, of course.” 

I’m even more confused. Why is he bringing up sex? What does sex have to do with it? Is he saying he wants to have sex with me as his Sanga? Is he attracted to me in that way, too? The thought is electrifying.  
  
“Kitten,” Rai murmurs softly, stopping his work and lifting his face so he can meet mine. “I may be mistaken, but you don’t know much about the bonds between Touga and Sanga, do you?”  
  
I shake my head.

“I’m sorry,” I admit. I don’t know _anything_. I didn’t even know I was a Sanga before I sang for Virus and Trip.

“Stop apologizing. That really isn’t necessary. A part of you understands or you will soon, once I explain. The bond between us a Touga and Sanga builds gradually and deepens as a result of our connection. The better we know and understand each other, the stronger we will grow as partners.”  
  
“I understand that.”

“You have sung for me several times—and you sing very well, eagerly, in fact.” He waits for a moment before continuing. I feel compelled to say something.

“But it’s not as though I choose to sing for you every time. It’s more like you pull it out of me.”  
  
Rai’s eyebrows lift.

“Is that what it feels like to you?” His voice is quiet, and his smile has faded.

“It’s not a bad feeling…”  
  
“It feels like I am forcing you to sing?”

“N-not like that, either. It’s more that I can’t resist when you ask.”  
  
“And do you _want_ to resist?”

“No! I _want_ to sing for you. But I can’t seem to do it properly until you ask me to or unless…” My ears flush deeply and I regret starting this conversation. 

“Unless what, kitten.” He’s demanding I continue, not just requesting an answer.

“Unless you happen to be, um, touching me. It spills out very quickly then, immediately. In the auditorium, you weren’t touching me. But as soon as I saw you, my body remembered that touch—how you were kissing me—and stuff—and my song flew out like a bird.”

“I see.”  
  
“Is that a bad thing?” I am desperate to know, and I curl up on my side to get a better look at him. 

“Not at all,” Rai smiles again. “It’s from our bond increasing in strength. You are so very powerful because of your eagerness to please. Your willingness to connect sounds beautiful. It entices me—and your power flows into my body and I can feel your emotions. The bond is a wonderful thing. I just… worry you may not _always_ have the desire to please me. That’s why we should do other things that will satisfy you enough to lend me your power.”

I’m confused again. It almost sounds like he is saying he doesn’t think he is worth my song. But I’m in the more desperate position here, aren’t I? I'm the one without a choice, I think.

“What kinds of things? I can’t think of anything else I'd want except for you touch me,” I admit that last part probably too candidly. “And maybe… not _just_ touch.”

“Oh?” I can hear a smile in his tone. “That’s a good thing. Perhaps that is how we will start. But in battle, the bond appears differently. I may be able to kiss you before a battle, but if we are rushing and I don’t have time, the question is whether you will still want to sing for me.”

He is talking about bringing me out into the field with him. It frightens me a little, but this is a good sign. It’s slightly confusing to mix singing during sex and singing for battle, however. I can’t imagine they’d be anything alike. I just want to feel close to him. I want him to feel good. And he is serious about getting me out of here, which is my primary concern. 

“May I speak freely?”  
  
“Around me, yes. I would always request your honesty. Don’t hold yourself back.”

“I am afraid of this school. I know, I have been told no one will do me any real harm. However, I was protected this past week—not allowed to be with the other students or teachers—in order to preserve my, er, virginity—if I still am one after everything else that was done to me. Those that watched over me paid an awful lot of attention to my body, and every single one of them is anxious for me to return after tonight—so they can have a deeper taste. It _disgusts_ me to think of any of them touching me.”

Again, the brows lift, and he looks almost amused.

“Kitten. Don’t concern yourself with it. I will take you home tomorrow, and we will have a week or so to experiment—to see if this is—if _I_ am—what you really want. Other Tougas will desire you as much as I do. I saw them at the auction.”  
  
“But none were as kind as you were or as tender with me. I know I can do well for you, sir! I want to do well and I want to make you proud! I want to be with you, and I know you.”  
  
He lowers his voice a little more.

“But that's just it. You don't really know me. Haven’t you heard the rumors about me?”

“I have,” I answer carefully. “I just couldn’t believe that you would be cruel to me—not when you have been so kind and thoughtful. _No_ one else has been as kind as you.”

“Hmm.” When the silver cat hums, the vibration of his voice sinks deep into my ears and makes me tremble. Even when he brings up these rumors, I can’t imagine him ever being mean or cruel. I can’t imagine him treating me poorly—not ever. But I may be inexperienced and excessively anxious and overly aroused from the season, I suppose. 

He has finished cleaning off all the rhinestones and glitter from my body now, and he crawls up on the bed over me—I’m turned to my back—and his hair brushes against my chest. It feels really nice but slightly startling. My body is sweating and hot, and I feel I have an itch inside me that I can’t scratch. 

“How are you feeling? Can you move?” 

I nod my head and daringly wrap my arms around his neck, pulling my fingers through his long hair.

“I’m hot,” I admit.

“That’s a normal side effect of the season,” he purrs softly. “May I… _help_ you?”

I suddenly realize what he is asking—I didn’t know that mating season symptoms were so much like an illness. It’s unnerving, but my body seems to know what it needs to do to fix the problem.

I nod again, dropping my gaze, and whisper, “yes,” as quietly as I can.

Pulling his neck a little closer, I lift my torso off the bed so I can meet his lips. I mean to touch his lips gently, but that isn’t how he responds. He meets me with fervor and eagerness, making me moan softly. His fangs press against my bottom lip, bruising it gently. It feels… _right_. Like I belong here with him. That strange soft glow warms my body. I _want_ to be here.

My chest feels funny, light and airy, and something flutters inside the core of my being. I wonder if it might be another song, but I’m not willing to sing just yet. I am finding I want to participate in what’s coming next, and my song will deplete me of power.

“ _Please_ ,” I urge quietly.

“I’ll go slow,” he purrs softly, licking my ears and then letting his tongue trail down my throat. I lift up my chin so he has better access, and a strange submission floods my body when I let him nip the vulnerable skin. He keeps going, tracing the line of my collarbone—leaving a trail of kisses, licks, and light nips against the skin. An odd sense of peace and strain fill the room—the mixture is confusing and arousing.

When he reaches my chest, his fingers circle one of my nipples and tease it lightly. That sends desire and heat into my body, and my chest aches when his tongue sucks and nips at the other nipple. A sensation that can only be described as tenderness floods my heart. 

Again, I’m amazed at how different it feels when Rai touches me. When compared to how I’ve been stimulated before—by Virus, Trip, Verg, Arbitro, and even Akira—and none of it felt quite so adoring and _urgent_. There’s a part of my mind that is paying very close attention to the silver cat, taking in what he is doing. My hands act on their own, running through the fur on his ears. Now that he is at my chest, I sit up a little to lick his ears as well, but he pushes me back against the mattress. 

“Just relax,” he whisper—the hissing sound of his tongue against his fangs and his soft breath feel nice against my skin. Warm, gentle, tender. 

When his hand slips down to my underwear—as skimpy as they are—my stomach muscles flex nervously. He toys with the waistband, tracing his fingers underneath the elastic, caressing my sensitive skin underneath the band all the way around my belly to my tail. He moves his mouth down my chest, licking me and leaving a clean scent behind on me. I inhale roughly, gasping quietly when he licks my belly and grooms the soft fur just below my navel. A shudder rushes through me when he licks me there. 

He grabs the base of my tail—gently and then a little more firmly—deliberately stroking the fur against the growth, and I can’t suppress a gasp of delight. It’s an indulgent, rich feeling—so rich it makes me feel a little nauseated. But that nausea dissipates in an instant when the other hand cups my erection over my underwear. The touch relaxes my muscles and my body trembles with desire. He traces the outline of my cock, lightly pinching the head and spilling drops of precome, which quickly soak through the fabric. 

Feeling exposed and a little ashamed of the sounds leaking from my mouth, I try to struggle away from him for a moment, but he’s heavy against my legs, pinning me to the bed. He glances up at my face—and seeing him there, lying between my legs with his tongue grooming my fur—it sends another violent shudder down my spine and fluffs up my tail. My fangs bare and saliva starts building up in my mouth. I need _more_. 

“Are you doing all right?” Rai checks in with me—I think he’s slightly afraid I’ll freak out. Frankly, I am, too. I’m pretty sure I know what he has in mind, and I’m both nervous and excited. My eagerness is gradually taking over my fear since I have actually been anticipating this time together for the past week. I haven’t been able to stop thinking or fantasizing about it.

“Hmm… yeah,” I whisper, and my voice sounds weird in my ears. It makes my own ears twitch and blush. He smiles a little when he sees my pink ears.

“May I continue?”

He’s asking—I think—for my consent. 

“Um, didn’t you _buy_ me?” I ask. “I mean… buy the privilege of my first time? To spend the night with me?”

“I did. But I want to be sure you’re willing and excited about what’s coming next.” 

What _is_ coming next, exactly, I wonder? I mean, I know what’s supposed to happen, I think. It’s just weird to imagine it too precisely. He sits up and strips off his vest and blouse, then gets to his feet and unbuckles his belt. I am staring at him—looking at his body—I haven’t seen him nude before, though I touched his chest out in the garden—and my gods, did I really touch this man?! He’s incredibly attractive. Muscular legs are exposed when he loses his breeches, leaving him in his underclothing.

“I’ll be gentle with you tonight.”

“Okay,” I say, still a little unsure about why my consent is being requested. I miss the fact that he is promising to be gentle _tonight_. Later, I will remember this. But for now, I am aware he could just pin me down on the mattress and take me however he likes… and truthfully, that thought isn’t all that unpleasant, much to my amazement.

He pulls off my underwear, watching my expression as he does. It’s embarrassing to be seen and I find I have to look away. But there’s a soft brush against my chin, and I turn back.

“Don’t look away. I want to see you, Konoe.”

He said my name in that husky voice, covered in passion and desire. He _wants_ me—and he wants me to feel pleasure. My heart lurches in my chest and my emotions swirl around inside me, aching to be set free. But I still don’t let my song come out. I am basking in anticipation, for now.

The hand at the base of my tails lowers a little, bristling my fur when he brushes his fingers over my entrance. My body trembles when he inserts a finger, but it doesn’t hurt. I expected it would, like when Arbitro examined me—but even when Verg put that vibrator inside me today, it didn’t feel as bad as I expected.

“Hou? Have you been prepared for me?” He murmurs softly, continuing to stroke my cock with his other hand. I feel utterly breathless, but he eases off regularly so I don’t get too excited. 

My ears burn with heat—of course, he’d discover the small toy inside of my body, and another finger slips in and catches it. It stops vibrating when he pulls it out—and I feel a thick, viscous liquid dripping inside me, lining my inner walls. I will probably be thankful for that tomorrow, I guess. 

Casting the toy on the floor, Rai pushes two fingers back into me while increasing pressure on my cock. My nose and the tips of my ears are going numb and it’s hard to breathe as I am gasping quietly and trying to suppress my voice.

When his fingers hook inside my body and drag down my inner walls, a deep indulgent shiver shakes my body and makes a loud moan escape. It actually feels _good_ —his fingers inside me feel _good_ , to my amazement. It feels like my body isn’t my own, that fuzzy confusion coming over me once more when I arch my back, turning to my side and pressing my stomach against his so I can touch more skin.

I’m not quite sure what to do with my hands, so I continue running them through his hair, stroking the fur on his ears, and when he lifts himself up, I grasp the base of his tail. It bristles full and wide, swaying back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm. His ears bristle, too, making him look almost aggressive. But his pupil is blown, his body is sweating, and he smells so nice and fresh and cool, so I am not afraid.

Though perhaps I should be.

I run my hands down his waist, moving to the front of his body—my claws rhythmically drawing and retracting without my consent—and I try hard not to scratch him. Brushing my fingers through the smooth, silky fur just beneath his navel, I toy with his waistband just like he did mine. Though it seems he is trying to distract me with those fingers rubbing my inner walls and stretching my insides, his other hand caressing my cock. 

But I want to see him, so I push down the waistband of his shorts and let his erection spring free. I’ve certainly felt it before—but seeing it, erect and proud, dripping with eagerness, is something else entirely. A bolt of fear shivers down my spine when I realize exactly where that thing is going to go, and I start to get nervous. Yet that hazy confusion and the need in my body quickly overpower my fear, and I lick my lips in anticipation.  
  
For him, I will do _anything_. I will put up with any pain for his sake. If he will take me away from here, he can do as he likes to me, whenever he likes. And I will do my best to enjoy it.

After pulling his fingers from me, he releases my cock and shifts around on the bed, losing his underwear, turning me to my back and folding my legs at the knees. He holds both my thighs firmly as I’m pressed hard against the mattress, my legs flush against my stomach and spread. I feel incredibly exposed and my whole body flushes with heat, my tail bristled and lifted at the base—and something hot presses against my entrance. It’s much hotter and much harder than his fingers, but it doesn’t hurt—much to my relief.

He is staring down at me, meeting my gaze with that pale blue eyes swirling with desire, his hair completely loosed from the ponytail and sweeping across my body. He looks serious—and also as though he is deliberately holding himself back and taking his time. As he presses inside me, I can’t restrain my voice. A loud, musical sigh mixed with a purr overflows, and I can no longer hold back my song.

Strangely, the loud melody bursts from my body with a bright flash of warm light, raising goosebumps on my skin and shivering through my flesh. The light looks slightly pink in color, which is different than before. I feel him pulsing inside me where we are connected, and my flesh vibrates around him.

A guttural moan leaks from the silver cat’s throat, accompanied with a purr so loud it sounds like a growl. I feel a surge of desire flowing into my chest and taking me over, and it’s utterly confusing for a moment, making me stiffen.

“Relax,” he murmurs hoarsely, his honeyed voice laced with need.

I do my best to comply, but the song is utterly distracting. It has soft, submissive lyrics—a feeling that accompanies the melody since my mouth isn’t moving—and its revealing nature flusters me.

_Make me yours. I want to be yours entirely. Make me lose myself in pleasure. I belong to you._

“Precious Sanga,” he purrs, nudging my throat with his nose.

Soon, Rai’s thighs rest against my ass, my dick pressed between our stomachs, and I breathe deeply, getting another lungful of his crisp scent. He smells delicious—and I still want more. My body feels incredibly greedy.

I lean up to kiss him and he moans softly, his tail swaying wide with pleasure. And then he starts to move. He starts slowly, but I can feel every little motion inside me when he flexes his muscles. I shiver and shake, my skin trembles, my efforts to keep my voice restrained useless.

“Open your eyes,” he whispers. It’s a surprising command, and I hadn’t realized I’d closed them in the first place. His face is right in front of me, softened with pleasure and eagerness, and I can almost visualize his desire between us. The light pouring from my body lights up his face and it absorbs into his skin, making him glow and his hair shimmer. I can feel in the tendrils themselves and it’s incredibly overwhelming to be covered with touch.

He is thrusting into my body now, pulling himself out almost all the way, holding my hips firmly in place, pushing soft, sexy sighs out of me with each movement. It’s almost embarrassing for him to watch me so closely, but it feels so nice—his warmth inside me, my body expanding and making room for him, my dick dripping eagerly, my sighs coloring the room with a soft haze.

Shifting his angle, he pulls my hips down a little lower on the bed, and a shot of desire sparks through my body. It’s even more intense than what he was doing with his fingers earlier. It feels amazing—like a miniature climax, but each thrust builds on the next and the next, and I am inundated with impatience. I need _more_.

My body has transformed into a greedy animal, wanting to touch him more, pulling him closer to me. My cock strains painfully and tears spill from my eyes. My fur bristles and my purr deepens into a growl. When I kiss him, I accidentally nip his lips with my fangs. I can’t retract my claws and I stop trying, scratching my nails down his back, grabbing his tail and stroking it firmly out to the tip.

His hands move away from my hips—one to the base of my tail, one encircling my cock—and that sudden touch makes me jerk. A low chuckle mixes in with his growl, and he lowers his lips to my ear. My eyelids drift closed… and I float in a strange suspended space of overwhelming touch, feeling his lips on my ear, his tongue deep inside, his hands fucking both my cock and my tail, and his body pounding in and out of me. It’s making me lose my mind, and a surge of desperation makes me cry out. 

“Please! Rai!” I need to call his name, and I hear him whisper mine into the ear he is licking. A melting sensation covers my body and flows to my core, and I am suddenly flooded with an indulgent shivering sensation.

My body jerks again as I climax into his fist, my insides tightening around his cock so much that he has to slow his movements. Pleasure surges through my body and my song and voice ring out loud in satisfaction. But he keeps his hands and body moving and pulls back slightly. I realize that he’s watching me come. My ears and cheeks flush but I can’t stop at this point. My chin is nudged slightly with his nose, making me meet his gaze, and then I feel him stutter.

Long white lashes drift close just gently—and only for a second—and I hear a loud relieved sigh that spills into my ears at the same time I feel his release. It’s an intense sensation—watching him lose himself while indulging with me. It brings a sense of joy into my chest and a feeling of comfort and belonging.

When he finishes, he rests for a moment, holding me in his arms, pushing his nose against my shoulder, his breath ragged, and I stroke his hair softly, purring loud and uninhibited. My body is completely relaxed now that my song is finished, and it slowly loses power and sinks into the bed. 

I gasp quietly when Rai pulls his length from inside my body—it’s a strange sensation, not being taken anymore. I’m slightly confused and oddly, I feel a little lonely. However, he grabs a soft towel from the side of the bed and wipes me down gently, and then curls my back up against his chest and starts grooming my ears with long firm strokes of his tongue, like he’s grooming with a purpose. It tickles, but a gentle feeling forms in my chest despite my apprehension. It calms something deep within my body—though each time his tongue connects with my skin, it sends a soft little shiver through the area.

Relaxing into the touch, I close my eyes and purr, drifting off to sleep.


End file.
